SIN CHUKU RKT - RIP ZARAMAY

Ah, now we're talking, bro
Back again
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Eh
Testing, testing (Bilardo's on the beat, uh)
Let’s get it going, eh-ah
What’s up with the movement, dude? (Zaramay)

You act like you do shows every night
And they sent you to play in Uruguay for five bucks and a flash drive
You pawned all your mom's stuff in the hood
And the kids in the neighborhood trade it for some Nikes

I was the first, I don’t compete, and I never talked about my crimes
The only thing they accuse me of is sticking my dick in you
The kids at the stoplights selling tissues
And you wiping your nose with bills, what a dumbass

And Mirta doesn’t know you, you don’t go out after midnight
The girls you had, I smashed them in different poses
The needle threading the thread when they rip your ass
I do talk to Rafa and he backs me up all the way (Eh)

I always stay wild and visionary
Making music, deals, and getting rich
I know a lot of fools who claim to be hitmen
I’m recording some tracks, filming in their hood

I’m cashing in pesos, euros, reais, and blue dollars
You wanna talk about original and you copy my tattoo
You’re bitter with the scene because you’re a nobody
And you feel like an Eskimo with a penguin in the igloo

My sister says you’re a broke loser
I’m chill, super bold, flexing everywhere
The kids from the neighborhoods, thanks to me, are winning
And you’re naming the hits because you can’t get in the market

I go on tour and when I come back, it’s all paid
And when we enter the jungle, I always leave respected
Sometimes I walk alone with all La Mafilia by my side
And you mentioning the monkeys, you feel so sponsored (Ah, haha)

And you’ve never done anything or hung out with the losers
The ones hanging on the corner with a bottle of wine
You tell me you’re a thief and that you’re always armed
And you got caught for showing off borrowed guns (Eh-ah)

The contacts I have, they’re already on your case
And they want to come find you to leave you barefoot
Don’t act like a criminal if you’re scared on the street
You got left hanging—

I respect the work, the hustle, and the mess
And fools like you, I smoke them like a joint
And you live off the dangerous kids’ hype
But everyone knows you’re a chicken on the street

The first in my genre and the most represented
From the pure and real neighborhoods that keep marginalized
The kids who are down and out, I keep them motivated
So they don’t lose faith and one day come back winning

I lost with my mistakes and learn from all I’ve experienced
My hundred days locked up by people who betrayed
The BM was seized but the Raptor’s stuck in mud
The limo in the yard, I’m at home relaxed

The scene is already heated and the dead live pale
In the block, you’re invalid thinking you’re a hitman
There are many envious but none are rivals
I carry what’s just and necessary in my comments (Eh, eh, eh)

Girl from TC, guarded by boxers
Look for a neighborhood, dude, strut your stuff
"Papelito" was your nickname and prince of the snitches
You touch the bars, snitch, they had you getting smacked

If we’re getting real, you know I’ll punish you
Never before have I seen a fool who thinks he’s so clever
I don’t talk much, little chump because here we go all out
Here we do and leave it done, and that’s what makes us different

You said my daughter would see me in a coffin
And they’ll see you naked running in the alley
When they rip off your outfit and your Louis Vuitton glasses
And then you’ll go report me because you’re a big snitch

From L-Gante to the watchful cat
To the Phantom of the Opera, the biggest fraud
The one who hits the fans and thinks he’s so important
For injecting steroids and putting on a pair of gloves

You’re not a bandit, no thug or gangster
With pointy shoes and tight pants from back in the day
You can’t talk about being tough with that ugly face
And nowadays you don’t have shows because of all the shit you talked

The girls shake their asses and spend their work money
The boys move the goods and always play it safe
And the ghosts like you are always watching their backs
You’re a limp mustache and with one slap, I’ll make you roll (Ah)

Respect to Ponte Perro and success to Lil Pani
They respect me in Rodríguez, they welcome me in Canning
You messed up your mom’s stuff and your house
Then you went to the hood to look for her with the cops

I drop into the neighborhood with Mati, smoking, dreaming of buying a Bugatti
I have a monkey’s face but you have a rat’s face
We’re always messing with you with my sister Nati
All my homies are down for crime and I’m not talking about Cerati

Shout out to Palito, to Nueve and Soldati
I’m heading to Lomas cutting on a Kawasaki
The humility’s in the hood but the cash is in the capital
That’s why on Children’s Day, I always go and sing for free

I represent 100%, the hood taught me the dialect
I didn’t finish high school but I have the intellect
Let the kids study and not fall for your lies
You only sold smoke and I generated a movement

L-Gante Keloke
The wildest, eh
The most RKT movement-T-T
I do respond to you, dude

And I drop into your hood like a rich kid
To pass the time
Ah, we’ll hang it up to the ceiling
Character, ruchi

Cumbia 420, you’re really hurt
You got left out, ma
And let me know if you want a má
L-L-L-L-L (Maxi), L-Gante (El Brother), Keloke, Keloke

The one who turns off the movie
If at your shows they only sing that one that says: Piece of a parrot
Eh, dude, eh
Get yourself together, the RKT movement

No, dude, I don’t give a fuck, you know the work it takes to make a song
I didn’t even mention you, dude, stop crying, dude
Stop crying and leave the corner, man
You know I don’t want to, dude, I respect your sister a lot, man
Don’t make me do things I don’t want to do, dude
Don’t be a fool, Elián, I didn’t even mention you
They’re the kids of my kid, I said, stop crying, dude
You can’t cry over a bar from Mirta Legrand, laugh it off, idiot
The mess isn’t with you, moron, I told you a thousand times, stop being a pain in the ass, dude, stop
And delete those stories, buddy, you look bad
For two days you’ve been dedicating ten stories a day to me, buddy
Don’t you realize that the one who looks bad is you? (Don’t you realize that the one who looks bad is you?)
Pride in San Martín, no one could do what I do

The one who comes with their nonsense falls at my feet [?]
[?] Support, a special night
[?] Chencho Corleone
[?] Trend not even with [?]
[?] The father of the dynasty
They want dick and then [?]