Posesion Demoniaca

They say I’m going to hell for cursing with my voice
Please, check my birth certificate, I was born in Mexico, man
If there’s a hell when I die, I know how it could be worse
Corruption, murders, ballads that talk about God

If only I could tell Lucifer the situation
About all the scum that exists in government
He’d be filled with complexes, then he’d get depressed
Because next to those criminals, he’d feel inferior

I’ve lived a life in a country that’s on fire
If I go to hell, I’ll wear a jacket
So used to prices skyrocketing here
That going to the corner store feels like going to Prada

Like it or not, that’s the situation
If you don’t hustle, you don’t get ahead, says the population
The devil taking notes because he just learned
That if hell is tough, Mexico is even worse

Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na

They say I should go to church to get to heaven
Not to smoke, not to drink, not to mess with Donatello
Then they give me a list that includes thousands of games
That they call sins, but I don’t give a- (Oh, hell no!)

They say: God is loving, even if we can’t see him
And he asks, rather demands, that we show him faith
That we love him like no one else, more than a mother or a woman
But that toxicity wasn’t even in my ex

Then they say: in heaven they sing praises, pray all the time, dance, rest when they’re tired
Then they hug, while their bellies rub
And that doesn’t amuse me, I wouldn’t go willingly
God knows everything and punishes those who don’t believe
So if he created me, he knows I’ll talk about him
And if what I say makes others stop believing
It’s because from the start, he wanted to see them burn

Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na

They say the devil is in me
I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m fine this way
I wanted him to stay here
And even if he wants to escape, I won’t let him out

They say I have no morals because I don’t believe in scriptures
Dogs don’t believe either, and they behave just fine
They claim God is just, that he cares for us and helps us
While a priest caresses an altar boy at the waist

I don’t know, but I don’t like that madness
Just like I don’t like them promoting censorship
Every time I write about gods, disorders, and madness
YouTube sends my payment straight to the trash

There are fragile people, and I’m a crystal-phobic
They ask me to respect them with homophobic insults
I didn’t want to step on them but they keep multiplying
And now I’ve taken to dancing like I’m a damn alcoholic

They want to control the crazy guy who’s now rapping
It’s like asking a tornado to just stop
Whoever talks to the inanimate, goes to the asylum
And the one who’s not locked up is because he calls it praying

Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na
(My name is Green A)
Na-na-na, na-na-na

(Green and the motherfuckin' A, wuh!)
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na
Na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na-na

The world has gone soft, fuck that shit
They need the Green Devil back again