De Frente Com a Morte

(At seven years old, I got a real gun)
(It was a .32 Colt)

Paying attention to everything
Yeah, those who talk a lot shoot without aiming
It's easy to talk, hard to do
Hey, doing a lot with a little
Getting better every day
The art of not pleasing anyone

Yeah, Mano Fler

Tell the traitors no one can take me out
Those who aim shoot, but only kill if they need to
Justice isn't just served by vigilantes
Not everyone with a sweet ass sits on an anthill
If the gunpowder smell on your finger gives you a clue
Let’s pray the shots check before the cops do
If life’s crazy, those who live it are crazier still
Envy sucks the energy from good news
The play, rec, pause, stop
Frank Sinatra is the rap if the party goes rock
Just like bad news, I show up when you least expect it
I’m the son of a maid who stands with the landless
Blessed too much to complain
'Cause it ain't just the black cop who tries to mess with me
Toughened up, I run, run but only get tired
Facing difficulties laughing like a child

Facing death
(Facing death)
Yeah, I saw what I’m worth
Getting beat by life
(Getting beat by life)
I became a fighter!

And when you don’t hit back
(And when you don’t hit back)
You become what you took hits from
And anger teaches you to hit
With your index finger
With your index finger
With your index finger

When your worth was a nine
Everything we suffer in violence we give back
Shot, robbed, traded shock for shock
But forgot to triple the cash

My mom said I’d be a legend
And today I’m what the weak can’t handle
Condemned people are the ones who represent me
Judged quickly, in a slow justice

Unbelievable how the robbery in Ortigueira
Is seeing illiterates running ten corners
And believing the criticism of the fake is constructive
The view of those who built nothing isn’t constructive
Betrayal in the dungeon is rage
Ten minutes ago, I was in orbit
Facing death, like Eli’s book
It’s the lack of narcotics that left you without a laugh

Yeah, I saw what I’m worth
Getting beat by life
(Getting beat by life)
I became a fighter!

And when you don’t hit back
(When you don’t hit back)
You become what you took hits from
And anger teaches you to hit
With your index finger
With your index finger
With your index finger

Man, I was the only kid on the block
To have a real gun, a week later
I was the only kid on the block.