Rap

Rap, abstract concept, contact sport,
What is rap really? Well, I don't know the truth.
The truth is, I have more MC than scoundrel,
although I would have coffee with Count Dracula,
should it be a coupling, right? If rap is terrorism,
then I speak on behalf of the elite, if it's a
movie, I'll write the script, and I'll be a saint without
blemish if it's a religion. Rap is marketing when
the assholes use their aesthetic,
to shoot a video in a parking lot, but I love the
sheet on which I write, not that I'm a woman but
it also makes me feel alive. Mine is
to walk through empty streets, waiting for something
to happen before it's daylight, stepping on paths made by
agreement, when I bring wild poetry flowers
from the meadows of ingenuity.

In the world there are two types of people; the believers
who don't believe and those who believe they are believers. When
there are no friends let me give you advice, there's always the
image that the mirror reflects back to you, if you seek what
I have, you can't have it, man. How unoriginal it is
to try to be it,
and action, being average is not an option, it's a
failure, at most a topic of conversation. A
comment, mine is rap, this fulfills me,
like looking at night from the fifth centenary.
When I'm in the car, because I'm from where I live,
besides what I think, what I listen to and what
I write, I burn state paper, wet paper, of
strong hung is the fuel of my level, I'm not
still or tied down, I can't change my skin, I'm
faithful because there are things I haven't forgotten yet.

I wake up with rap, have breakfast with rap,
I am rap, play rap, listen to rap, write rap, you know
I'm fucking with rap all damn day. My buddies because
of me have ended up hating rap,
being a B-Boy is a mental state in my dictionary
more valuable to me than being a businessman or a university graduate. I don't expect you to understand, just to
listen and learn another comment, how arrogant
the new ones are, they confuse enthusiasm with knowing it all
in this game, I have you by the balls, I take you to
orgasm, where's your ego now? Come on, buddy,
give me two bucks, Juaninacka EP version, the style
strikes back, if it weren't for rap I'd be smoking
silver, voilà, from Coria with love, suck it and please,
let there be no hard feelings.