Testimonio De La Calle

I walk through fire and never get burned,
I am poison, I train my style and my interpreter streetwise
I love money and if yours falters, I take it,
if you're not a cowboy, stay quiet
I'm a fan of the highest and lowest caliber 22-4-4, shotguns, slugs, and rifles (what!)
As a child, I was more problematic than basic
In second grade, they called me the lunatic kid
I cried not understanding what was happening to me, why I thought so much,
and always slept in class
The teacher calmed me down when I was anxious
And explained to me that I was in a vicious circle (what!)

And what the hell did I understand if I was barely 7 years old and my dad never saw me,
My father left with an old friend and
I curse the reason that broke the core of my family (what!)
My mother would get drunk and lament,
And with any man she met, she would leave
Then she would say it was all my fault, of a child who stayed up all night alone and without food

At 9 years old, I no longer felt the blows and I stole, smoked, and didn't go to school (aaa!)
I thank God that I was imprisoned as a juvenile,
I would have seen my mother die by my own hands (hey yo!)

I came out of prison as a bear,
Time in jail made me extremely dangerous,
I was on the covers, rumored in the neighborhood, on the corner, on the court,
in the street (aaa!)
Others' fear fed my ego
And just by looking at them, I made the brave one back off,
As a convict
Robbery was my first job,
Since you know society turns its back on the prisoner
My plan, to raise enough to buy a kilo of heroin
exploit it and take the profits,
But one night was the worst of all while robbing a man at gunpoint

(Don't move, damn it, this is a robbery,
Damn drunk old man, don't look at me or I'll kill you!)

I gave him a routine blow, his knees trembled
I put the gun close to his ribs
(Don't shoot me, mailman!)
He gave me the cash, I checked it and (bang!) a shot went off
I picked up all I could with one hand
And before leaving (bang! bang!) I had to finish him off

That same night counting the money from that same robbery
I searched his wallet, his ID to see his picture
His name was ironic, Jose Cortez Morales,
It was when I understood that the man I killed was my father,
He kept a picture of me with my mother,
Years have passed and the moment has been unforgettable,
And now I am the street testimony,
I was born to do, to vote out the miserable

(aha!)
Look for me or criticize me but cry for your children
Only God knows if I continue on my own path
And maybe your worst fate awaits you!