2017

Sometimes my difficulty is that I don't have a title to post
I started college but I went out kicking
I learned more by chatting with old men at mate time
Some idiots are not going to heal me

That flash that militate my values
And they limit themselves to being imitators, I
I want to listen to new MC's and I always return to Pampa
The best compa, but in the rap game you're cheating

And I take it as seriously as not forgetting daggers
How not to leave the notebook even to change diapers and
Dead of sleep in the attempt to be eternal and
In my gut I feel like there are signs and

Precise the microphone like a hard thing, look for a bit
To make things clear, oh
Today I have a shitty job that seems more worthy to me
Than the product that many floggers with tattoos on their faces sell you

I prefer to be the poet who cleans the toilets to survive
And he lives to release the album of the year, which no one asked for
It was instinct that insisted
Having recorded for those who only have a recorder

I go straight to guachos that tan the ghettos
I'm not going to dilute the rap to get along with friends
I would be ashamed if a contract stopped my nose
And flash a foreign accent to stick it in my country

I preserve the dignity of protecting identity
That locks me up, like a root underground
Do you want hardcore? I give the weight on the scale and break my health
To keep my monkeys with a salary that is not enough and was

What will happen to rap when everyone sells out?
All except I
All except I

What will happen to rap when no one defends it?
Nobody but me
Nobody but me

What will happen to rap when everyone sells out?
All except I
All except I

What will happen to rap when no one defends it?
Nobody but me
Nobody but me

He who said the path would be straight said well
I don't know if he said it's a viper on a Nokia 1100
Each movement has a letter and there is a sensor with which it interacts
Like the liner and a tetra

And there I think who came first
The artist or the excesses
Freestyle or being possessed, imprisoned in my city
Being immensely immersed in my imbecility

Part of this ritual of approaching the forbidden
Because that's how I need it
I feel like Ricardito in an episode of Okupas
That she sees me as Echarri wants me to take her upstairs

Before I spit it out, he wants to talk to me about Tupac
No idea queen, I'm more of a Lootpack
I have a quasimodo whom I celebrate
Today I have a quasimoto in my brain that throws me letters

That on the track I put my blacks up to their vertebrae
If they ask, I don't know how I explain it to a father-in-law
Or someone who raps zero
Let me train myself by saying outrageous things to win a trophy that today I use as an ashtray

How many times the window tilts
For sacrificing hours of moth-killing
To have cool rhymes
So that you listen and shut up

I got up to record at 5
To get to work at 7 to get a detail
Ask my notebook if I trusted it
I thought about that idea by blurring lines, missing my crew

I'm going to tell you that I went to work late or without sleeping
For playing for 30 who can withstand the under
Dad looks like a liner and he doesn't have a handle
It has a pen, a fidelity to the handle that inspires monkeys

What will happen to rap when everyone sells out?
All except I
All except I

What will happen to rap when no one defends it?
Nobody but me
Nobody but me

What will happen to rap when everyone sells out?
All except I
All except I

What will happen to rap when no one defends it?
Nobody but me
Nobody but me