Preso Número 17

Na-Na-Na-Nahuel The Coach
Christmas locked up again
Damn his mother
What are you gonna do, buddy? Want some mate?

December twenty-fourth and I'm still locked up
Forty degrees and without air conditioning
They think I'm repentant for what happened
But I'm a bandit, I haven't forgotten

That life is up one day, and down the next
When you reached the top, they brought you down with a blow
Without feeling the adrenaline, the water that overflows the glass
Because one day the victories and failures end

That's why I don't rest or nap in the afternoon (No)
That's why I never get tired, I'm always the life of the party (Always)
Ask around the corner, the neighborhood has the answer
The real deal never sleeps, always stays on the straight line

Since I was a kid, I've had the attitude of a king
The south saw me grow and take hits in my own school
With a Chicago Bulls twenty-three tank top
I used to do a thousand pirouettes to dodge the blue one

And one day I lost, and there I saw my mother cry
One day, two days, visits
They came to my cell as if they needed
To see me again to inform me about the clique

I couldn't tell you anything I didn't see, buddy
I speak to the street because I come from there, buddy
I've really given life to the street, buddy
I'm a real motherfucker, a true G, buddy

And now Christmas Eve has passed and it's Christmas
And I'm still without money, love, or freedom
Thank God I can still sing
To feel a bit outside with a peaceful heart

Some will say that all this is my fault
Of course, man, it's my fault, for trusting the police
If I hadn't entered the game, of course I never lost
But I always had the balls to act cold-blooded

Now I have a couple of years left to step on the line
But from in here, I'm churning the butter
The truth is one and for you to know it
It'll be harder than battling the Aztec empire

I punish the pencil, it's already asking for vacation
When I write, I'm more of a bandit than your thugs
My body is in prison, my mind is in the alleys
But my heart asks you not to abandon it

I couldn't tell you anything I didn't see, buddy
I speak to the street because I come from there, buddy
I've really given life to the street, buddy
I'm a real motherfucker, a true G, buddy

[?] Hunger
Dripping blood
I want, I want to greet my mother
To the family and the neighborhood out there, who are missed a lot
This is not music, it's a drug