Patagonia

This is not music, it's drugs

I don't believe anything, sorry, but I don't believe anything.
I don't give hints, I spit it in your face
I'm not a worker, but I always walk with the shovel
My clicka taking the rich one, although they never pay it

Now they give it to me and it costs more
My blacks all G's are breaking it up in the room
50 to buy food and all the change in bullets
Because they are always prepared for bad news

So come on, don't insist because it wastes time brother
I prepare it in winter to sell it in the summer
I don't like to trust but if we have to talk, we talk
We want the devil far away and we pray to the virgin

With my brother, always with a rosary in his hands
Only before the virgin or the gaucho do we kneel
Red eyes from the buds we smoke
I only go to church on Palm Sunday.

I earn it, Maria always has me a gift
I grew up in the mountains and I don't even slip on the ice.
The inventor of the game, so if you play I beat you
The gangsta of the scene, I compare myself to no one

I sell them, you buy it, but I don't answer the call
I want money and cash, a bandit involved
And even if they have me signed, they are not going to see me broke
My mind is red hot but it hasn't burned

Always attentive, I never had regrets
Bandits, police, they know that I never lie
I escaped from the civilian no matter how much I accelerated that wind.
They continue to suffer for what makes me happy

I spit drugs, all my songs talk about drugs
If I want I make money or consume it all
Keep talking shit, shit is going to be what you take
I have thousands of Bardero$ and none of them abandon me

And that's okay, that's why I kill for my carnal
Substance in every rhyme like in the nostrils
Even if I put the safety on, the shot always goes out
I give them smoking classes like "Master Jirafales"

And my dogs are always playing with luck
I want you guys high on drugs the day death comes to me
Remember the MC and forget the criminal
Because when he is dead many people will be happy

Son Bardero$ black in the south is good
If you don't go out on the street so we can see who is less
Starting game and that I never train
If they really are gangsta we'll see each other in hell

Face to face, and there things will be clear
The cops who helped you before won't be there.
There will be no guns, no rifles or swords.
And then we will finally know who has a bad soul

Los Bardero$, in the south selling you poison
I make cats moan, bitch, I am the Mero Mero
I kill the mother of the one who plays the Troca or the Crackero
I was born to die only for the people I love

Los Bardero$, black in the south is good
If you don't go out on the street so we can see who is less
Starting game and that I never train
If they really are gangsta we'll see each other in hell