Caranguejo do Trap

The blood that runs through my veins
It's worker's blood
Son of a Northeasterner, my dear, I know my worth very well
These guys think they're superior just because they live downtown
For these brothers I just have a message
It's there, there inside

They call me Chico again
'Cause I'm the Trap Crab
Taking the Northeast out of the mud and placing it where it deserves
I just started, I don't know him, but I know who he is
I grew up in the land of: And was it? And it is, is it?

Rapadura is sweet, but not soft
Better cross the sidewalk if I'm with my brothers
My pants are down, it must be the bricks
Because I am considered much more than Lampião

I live my life without getting involved in anything wrong
If I die, it will be a dead death, never a killed death
If this guy I came to cool with my face
You'll get to know my soft finger, I'll send him to the ditch

Pa, pa
Fi as a girl
What a temptation, my Galician girl kissing me like a bee
And the Moon heads through the crack in the tile
Amazed by the size of your popô

But who is this guy here?
I never saw it, I never heard it, in Recife I made it flow
Still want to talk about me
I want to see you take responsibility for this here
I put the mangrove on the Grammys and they'll still talk about me

They will still talk about me
Speak well, speak badly
Mordenizing the past is a musical evolution

My brother Francisco, he already knew
He was sure I would sing one day
Like a prophecy that would happen
Northeast years ahead of this marketing

It's just that a long time ago people talked about criminals
A long time ago there was talk of a solution
A long time ago we talked about progress
A long time ago I saw it on television
I watched television
I watched television
I watched television

Mangrove, mangrove
This sound is born on the coast
081, Mangue Beat still lives
Still lives in me

Brazilian Venice, she is
Land of tall coconut trees, that faith
She surrounds me, doesn't leave her foot
Dancing tacky all night, that's what she wants

I want more money than La Ursa
So you want that bag under your blouse
I'm making this turn around here, isn't it clear
What's it like to look into my eye, it locks like Medusa

Brazilian Venice, she is
Land of tall coconut trees, that faith
She surrounds me, doesn't leave her foot
Dancing tacky all night, that's what she wants

I want more money than La Ursa
So you want that bag under your blouse
I'm making this turn around here, isn't it clear
What's it like to look into my eye, it locks like Medusa