Intro (El Círculo)

Ah!, Kase. O is back to the game
Kase. O, there are only borders on paper
(Kase. O!)
Kase. O!
Javat, master of psychoanalysis
Always rapping through the streets, Kase. O is killing it!
Rap Solo
K-A-S-E point O, when I grab the microphone

Kase. O is back to the game
The first line is for those who have been here from the start
The second is for all of you who were waiting
Now I want to see you celebrating

Grab the bottle you had ready
And the dry harvest for the marked date
Chords sound announcing the arrival of the Messiah
Just when you thought you were going crazy

Who was there in your worst moments?
Who filled the void in the slow minutes?
Who accompanied you on your best trips?
Who brings messages that make you relax?
Who played the music of your adolescence?
Remember, my science, what a good influence?

The music today is the worst in history
Easy for me to shine among the trash
Wielding a bloody microphone
I see, one by one, they're falling

Ridiculous MCs, stupid and shameless audience
Crude cult of the absurd
Long ago, I decided
That this world wasn't made for me

So welcome to this circle
Where I do whatever the hell I want
All for rap, all for the people who follow me
For a century now, and still alive

United by telepathic waves, my audience is my confessor
My accomplice, ask who's the best
I bring love for my unconditional defenders
Fiercely defending my dance, I feel unrivaled
Because they've come and called me the damn boss
I don't even know how many times

Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!

I wallpaper your room
With verses I discard
Turn this off, you still have time
Avoid a heart attack

I'm the mind that dreams of you listening to my rhymes
If you're an MC, I can make you depressed
Leaving unusable verbs, sex where I buried my sword
You see that my end is indivisible

I thought of all your rhymes before
But I discarded them for not being interesting
What you do, a pig does it better
But how refined is my hardcore

Next to your unbearable soporific soup
My rap is the literal path to paradise
My rap transcends horizons you don't even know
The delirious one, the cause of so much joy
Electrifying, tamer of sunflowers
I take my part, my time is art like a Rolex

Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Bumba, the style that knocks you down, Kase. O
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!
Pure, powerful, raw Hip-hop, Ah!

Counting the number of ideas I juggle
Is like counting the flaps of a beetle
Counting my verses or measuring their reach
Is traveling in a trance from the universe to the multiverse

Tell my life, narrate my story, erase the euphoria
For I come from killing my memory
Glory equals to trash, as I prophesied
Balls and faith, life of balances at the vertex

Follow the path, catch the wave
Let the one who doesn't understand not hide if it's too deep
Take off the blindfold, listen to my offering
Maybe you'll be surprised by a great idea and change the world

Maybe it motivates you, activates you when I show you
The source of this rural cistern
Far from any detective who kidnaps
Our secret, I promise you'll see an extraterrestrial fetus
In the circle!