El Síndrome de Anuel

I myself had a brother who mistreated my mother
And he received his punishment: Heaven took him away
And yet my mother goes into his room
And there I find her crying for the son she lost

I gave you the option to ask for forgiveness
Out of compassion, I didn't want to tear your heart out
But you've made a mistake and instead of rectifying
You throw a simple rap with preschool insults
Hey, I'm Fred Flintstone, yabadabadu
I cut it with ephedrine for junkies like you
I bury shit talkers, the saw without a coffin
Mine is grandma's stew, yours is fast food
You're a frustrated fan with a rusty brain
I slit your neck with my rhymes, covered in blood
Too easy, you're street on paper
I gave your disease a name, Anuel's syndrome
When you made the first move, mine talked to me
They said: Let's go with the Glock to Madrid to scare him
And I: Relax, seriously, damn, take it easy
If to kill this mouthpiece we don't need weapons
Today not even your soul is saved, I'm going to adjust your karma
You're just a pseudo-dominant, you've never been a rapper
I don't do it for myself anymore
Today the fire in my throat explodes when I see in your dirty mouth the name of the dog
You represent the opposite of what he defended
We gave each other respect when rap didn't introduce us
Where were you then, crowing in the freestyles?
In those times your accent was still from your country
Neither old school nor new, you didn't pass the test
Empty brain, the note doesn't reach the cut
Tell me what you've achieved, some views on YouTube?
Because if we talk about money, I have more than you
But to hell with money, I have earned respect
You're just a toy and that's no secret
I punch you up to the elbow, I won't stop even if you scream and cry
After this, I'm officially part of rapists
My name is Foyone, the only president
Giving rap lessons to educate your listeners
I can die, but these bars live forever
And now you will remember me every time you sit down
It's time for empty rap to go out of style
I empower my people in the form of sound waves
And that power is so real, no one can mess with us
I came to burn the diploma, I'm going to melt the crown
All who share this language, regardless of the flag
Know that I will stand up until the day I die
Light the candles for the fanatics who support the dead
After this, only bits of the body remain, ah

I'm crying
I write corrosive acid for these damn parasites
With this sadistic face, I chew on too basic raps
I practice, I hit your snout and train, I see it fantastic
You gave me reasons, you witness how Foyone tore you apart
The cheapest of scandals, sorry, I'm not going to take it out
I'm going to rip out your eyelids so you can see it all, oh
And when they bury you, I'm going to take you out of the grave again like Franco
You can call me a necrophile, the boy is dead and I keep violating him (ha)
Crazy, that voice, what happened to you, why do you talk like that? (ah)
Maybe that shit you sniffed messed up your nose (yeah)
They said, 'don't throw, don't lower yourself', but I'm like this (I'm like this)
If I see a bitch willing, sorry, my bad, I'm going to break her
You're a painkiller, mine is like a rush, Medellin
Your end has come, I don't need a sparring partner in the ring
Hey, buddy, you're a funny clown, you're Mr. Bean (haha)
Talking so much shit, that mouth stinks, it will never be clean (ugh)
What is a fake rapper going to tell me, a digital gangster?
I never saw you playing a concert in front of real people (no)
I've traveled all over Latin America and this is the truth
As soon as Covid ends, we'll go back there to explode again
I saw you cry, 'they never invite me to festivals'
When they didn't want me, I played at raves (yeah)
People talked about you, your neighborhood before you fell
You're 'Daniel Ear', a fool who always pretended to be street (ear)
Get to the crazy Chinese, come on, I'm hungry
I eat all these little rappers, but it's not enough (no)
What a shame they don't give mental implants
To make you a good opponent
What a shame you only have one style to throw at me (uh)
All your songs are the same, always the same crap (yeah, ah)
Crazy, it's starting to get tiring (yeah)
Your brain doesn't cut it (eh)
You're just temporary (yeah)
I'm here forever
Let's see if you at least make money and fix your teeth
(Fucking pest)

I play it smart since the times I caused trouble for people to paint trains
Hitting was the next step, my temper is always steel
When there wasn't enough, I stole from the banker
Feet on the ground, I've never been special
I worked tirelessly until I could reach it
And now that I have it in my hands, they want to take it from me?
Brother, sharpen the sword, you'll have to cut them
I have sins that keep me tied to hell
I keep the level high, the price, being sick
From doing it so much, this son of a bitch has become an expert
I enrage verbs and demand the salary, ah
While I watch flocks of crows
I tame them to put their beak in the pig's eye
They are blind because of the ego
I delegate my future to destiny, see you later
I travel light, because the burden tires
The more you have, the more it weighs you down and the less you advance
I need Sancho Panzas, I only see giants
Everyone wants sports cars and diamonds
I enter a trance, I aspire to art
Doctor Manhattan, I reside on Mars
Dreaming that one day I will manage to reach you
I pursue sighs emanating from nowhere, ah
Keep quiet, I'm working
I bring bars from another world, I dedicate myself to smuggling
I dive deep into my unconscious
Those who see me from the outside think it's DMT, I've been smoking
I smoked it and left this plane
I didn't talk to beings of light, nor reptilians
A flame of fire came to me and spoke to me
It told me: I will always be by your side, remember that
I forgot, but today I remembered it again
I'm going to reach rap without cuts 50 before the year ends
Get moving or none of you will catch up to me
If you want to kill the king, you know who to shoot, pow!

Foyone in the house, fuck
Fuck
Fuck (ugh)
Hahaha
I'm recording this isolated
Because of Covid
But for me killing little rappers is a simple hobby
(Mouthpiece)
Sceno on the beat, DNC in the house (ah)
Start writing, filling like 700 notebooks
Eat like 700 stews
And if you want to talk again, go ahead
Clean your mouth, come on, yeah
I'm crying
Fuck