Entre Primos

I am disinterested because nothing interests me
We already have the cream and at the top the cherry
Everything changed and it's normal to hear these oddities
I don't even care anymore to which saint you pray
I have malice even though I'm not from the military
More drugged than Alice's tale
Don't you notice you're no longer news
There are more herbs here than in Leticia
Don't steal from me, I'm looking for what benefits me the most
Without special effects
Floating on space missions
They think they know about the beginnings without knowing the initials
We are not underground or commercial
I don't have guns
He who kills with a bullet dies by a bullet, I don't trust the iron
Yes I can! I always walk with my dogs
You have too much salt for being so fawning

They don't throw gunpowder at me, I'm a vulture
In the chicken coop another scarce candy
I go for my dust, you go for a big hit
With a glassy look and barefoot I walk in it
I ate the apple, my body full of benzene
In your breasts my gaze
I go beyond but I don't say it and nothing happens
I was made without brakes
It's me, another way to sin
They disappear when I smoke, I was made to rap
I have no resemblance or how to stop
Whether I write or not, no one can erase me
With time I become valuable, Tizón's godson
I hit like Tyson
I never measure my flow, my arm gets tired
I always go overboard, making them look like clowns

The sound of those who are
The ones with the seasoning, the ones who are at the forefront
Yes, Yes Yo' come taste it
Never monotonous on the microphone
The chief from Manrique to Mozambique
I break down walls with my pinky like the parakeet
Shut up, we compete with confidence
And since they don't know how to rhyme, should we offer lead?
Hell no! They lack balls
Your rap is dry and regular pangola
I put rhythms like bongo players from Angola
With rude flows that come out with a beer-scented breath
Hold up, and roll up and smoke it
If she puts her body, I put the bud so she can blow
Oh yes! Enlightened, I give a beating
But I need fire, who has the candle?
[Verse 4: Cold Metrics]
Flow like suitcases like Jim Carroll without a car
Whoever chooses from mine will make him look bad
A fresh bar planning a hit
The ones from the solar filling another room
Do you want rap? I have more, I am my own disease
I don't speak, I want to get high, they want to ask something
I don't speak, I want to bend, I record to remember
I kill the track, Bang!
If I write, I stop time
Under the noise I have fun
I perceive the wrong coming from their affection
They want to give me reasons and I want to give concerts
I deal like a croupier, my crew still standing
They carry my phrases on their skin
I have a thousand bases on my temple
We are La Gra$a and that's how you tasted honey, bitch!
I am disinterested because nothing interests me
We already have the cream and at the top the cherry
Everything changed and it's normal to hear these oddities
I don't even care anymore to which saint you pray
I have malice even though I'm not from the military
More drugged than Alice's tale
Don't you notice you're no longer news
There are more herbs here than in Leticia
Don't steal from me, I'm looking for what benefits me the most
Without special effects
Floating on space missions
They think they know about the beginnings without knowing the initials
We are not underground or commercial
I don't have guns
He who kills with a bullet dies by a bullet, I don't trust the iron
Yes I can! I always walk with my dogs
You have too much salt for being so fawning

They don't throw gunpowder at me, I'm a vulture
In the chicken coop another scarce candy
I go for my dust, you go for a big hit
With a glassy look and barefoot I walk in it
I ate the apple, my body full of benzene
In your breasts my gaze
I go beyond but I don't say it and nothing happens
I was made without brakes
It's me, another way to sin
They disappear when I smoke, I was made to rap
I have no resemblance or how to stop
Whether I write or not, no one can erase me
With time I become valuable, Tizón's godson
I hit like Tyson
I never measure my flow, my arm gets tired
I always go overboard, making them look like clowns

The sound of those who are
The ones with the seasoning, the ones who are at the forefront
Yes, Yes Yo' come taste it
Never monotonous on the microphone
The chief from Manrique to Mozambique
I break down walls with my pinky like the parakeet
Shut up, we compete with confidence
And since they don't know how to rhyme, should we offer lead?
Hell no! They lack balls
Your rap is dry and regular pangola
I put rhythms like bongo players from Angola
With rude flows that come out with a beer-scented breath
Hold up, and roll up and smoke it
If she puts her body, I put the bud so she can blow
Oh yes! Enlightened, I give a beating
But I need fire, who has the candle?
[Verse 4: Cold Metrics]
Flow like suitcases like Jim Carroll without a car
Whoever chooses from mine will make him look bad
A fresh bar planning a hit
The ones from the solar filling another room
Do you want rap? I have more, I am my own disease
I don't speak, I want to get high, they want to ask something
I don't speak, I want to bend, I record to remember
I kill the track, Bang!
If I write, I stop time
Under the noise I have fun
I perceive the wrong coming from their affection
They want to give me reasons and I want to give concerts
I deal like a croupier, my crew still standing
They carry my phrases on their skin
I have a thousand bases on my temple
We are La Gra$a and that's how you tasted honey, bitch!