PANTANO RMX (feat. Drako mafia, Marcianeke, L-Gante, Jordan 23 y Cris Mj)

Are we ready? Let's start the remix
Just went down to the Swamp to buy a hundred grams
The damn remix with all my brothers
The one who's yellow, cut off cleanly
Respected in all the places we step on
Grr, this is the remix

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
I live ironed in the music, that's why we sing

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
I live ironed in the music

Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá', -peá', -peá', -peá'
Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'

In the Swamp sounding strong, reggaeton-tón-tón
Me in Gucci and you in Volcom
The Real Rondon, in England Rondo
I pass through all this stinking nonsense
Rolling in gold, the hit is colorful
The fool looks like a bull with the horns they put on him
In the street acting like a thief, with fools I don't sing along
They make sons to the vio' and you end up in jail

The .32 is no longer transparent
You turn it green, your face phosphorescent
Let's take off the chains and the glasses
They're watching the cops and say they're crazy, ha

Roman acting like a thief, neck covered in gold
I don't sing along with shells, with the Raw-Lee I vaporize it
I look at them like a toilet, I don't fall in love with asses
They mention the Prosecutor's Office and you've only passed through the gate

We're going down to the Swamp, but we don't carry guns
Because fools don't envy because we don't envy anyone
A hundred grams on the neck, twenty more on each hand
We screw rich goats, hey

For real, it peels off, rebels in bed
If they dispatch, they get jealous, I make my cough smell it
While I give them it flies, I make my bud grind
I leave her sore like a toothache, ah

We do prr like Cosculluela
Get hooked, mommy, but I don't want rules
Let's have a beer
In the parties like a magnate, bare belly

Now, slut, now bounce it
It fits you with me
Although we're nothing, we don't let fools in
We sleep with the gun under the pillow
We're perreando leaving moms wet and your windows shot up

Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá', -peá', -peá', -peá'
Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'

Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá', -peá', -peá', -peá'
Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'

You already know I have the contact
That we fall on you immediately
That we blow up your ranch and change cars
That we walk armored and the impacts bounce off us
That I smoke snow with grass

That I'm spending money
Avoiding the badge, discarding rats
For fools it always sounds like a badge-badge
A watch on the wrist, a well-loaded gun
So your gang knows that we're not afraid of death

We go out with the buddies
Stealing the girl, stealing the money
We give mass to those who resist
If they know me, why do they invite me?

I smoke what I have in the pick-up
After I break your girl's swamp
I pass the chorizo on her face and she gives me a bad look
She climbs like a koala and drinks cough syrup with my shovel
I take out the bullet in case she shoots me
We go out in a caravan in case the cops stop us

You don't do anything, we always succeed
We empty the chip in front of your house
I take a line, the note explodes
Your buddies always fail you because they lack guts

Brr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Brr, brr, brr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Brr, brr, brr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Brr, brr, brr, that's how it sounds chipeá'

We were born in the Swamp, I live in the Swamp

We didn't eat any son of a bitch
We dress all the babies, undress them and eat them
We're all flaite and we squeeze ourselves
They're snoring about the Swamp and they haven't even smoked a joint eighty
I'm your dad, they have to pay me rent
The throne is mine, they still don't realize
I'm with the sluttiest and the .40 jumps

Directly from the Swamp
The banana combs, the fools know that there's no hand here
For real, we give it to you
We're cool, that's why we front
Because we pay, we fight a lot
And with a damn cut we count because we're given a hand

Brr, the chipeteá' sounds
Grr, grr, grr, the chipeteá' sounds
Prr, prr, prr, the chipeteá' sounds
Ha, ha, ha, I'm your dad

My name really weighs, smoking molasses
They know what I carry, they know what happens
Active to mine, we leave the dough
They ask who was it?, King Savagge in the house

They don't know me, don't talk nonsense
Low profile, they don't see me at all, we only count money and wool
Taking a ride in a Can-Am

If I win, everyone wins
I release this through my channel
Fools throw at me, but they're not here anymore
I kill them, I'm the killer

Perreíto done and came out of the Swamp
The gun magazine comes out of the banana
I don't have companions, I have brothers
I give my life for mine, don't bite my hand

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
I live ironed in the music, that's why we sing

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
Ironed thanks to the music

That's how it sounds chipeá', we do ra-ta-tá
We go down to your house and it gives me the hueá
We're all real
I'm with brothers and everyone in a van, tan-tan-tan-tan
We're in the LAN

I'm at two hundred riding in the CLA
They all envy me and throw me the peel
I'm still the same, fame doesn't get to me, hey

The whole crew is ironed
Thanks to the music we've crowned
I arrive at the Swamp with the gun loaded
None of them snore at me because I'm humble everywhere

The whole town loves me
Ma, what do you want? Should I put you in the Mercedes?, hey
Now they don't celebrate me
I'm cursed, but never for TV, hey

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
I live ironed in the music, that's why we sing

Burning an L and heading down to the Swamp
The chain I have weighs eighty grams
I have brothers trafficking and getting involved
I live ironed in the music

Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá', -peá', -peá', -peá'
Prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'
Prr, prr, prr, that's how it sounds chipeá'

Tell me, Lewis
The real thugs, huh
Chile and Argentina, buddy
Eh
Those who sound in the street