Maquiavélico 2

I bring fever, fire and wrath
Falser, gunpowder ashes of a
Usurious miscegenation
Opera of slum in Maderit
Pain of passion for alienation
And inhospitable, prosperous illusion
Proliferation of cliché, reason
Of associated misogyny
To ostentation, no
Fleeing from the ignorance shack, vain
With ditch, I want to drip
In a sky of concordance
Just remember the symphony of intolerance
With a Caloi and a ratchet as inheritance
I bring a vision of bitter chocolate sky
Cloud of wave and rainbow of heavy blood
Sweet and arrogant
In a plot of sympathetic villain
Heart of stone and a bouquet of plastic flowers
Alley thug
Of yellow mud
Odyssey of a crowd
Resurrected in diesel cells, alcohol, gasoline
A fact: the blood of the shack fuel of your jet
Of course, with the sound of your starry green
Devil from branch will embody your overseer
In old intentions, no wandering
Eternal memories of a memoryless
Prayer of Mrs. Vanda
Emanates glory, not holy
I made myself proud to be dolly
Instead of running to be fanta
We are favela of the alley palate
Being ghetto is easy
I want to see sleeping in Brasílit with a leak
Today the finger is poked by the wound
I didn't want a crazy life
I was born to be crazier than life
Free radical, appetite, rebellion philosophizing joy
With a seven-day candle
Stepping on a mountain of water
Without a shore, being crazy is not enough
In my wooden asylum
Where is my Cain for ten abels
I decided to contract
Making the shadows stay at my feet
Poor cradle is the nest of rattlesnakes
Jesus walked with twelve, but how many were faithful?

It's black, it's cliché, it's favela
Cyclone from dirt streets
In the ammunition from nothing to a million
With dollar in hand
Flaunting a bitch

It's black, it's cliché, it's favela
It's slum of evoque and new era
But up on the hill
I learned a lesson
Even in ostentation
I didn't forget the alley

It's black, it's cliché, it's favela
Cyclone from dirt streets
In the ammunition from nothing to a million
With dollar in hand
Flaunting a bitch

It's black, it's cliché, it's favela
It's slum of evoque and new era
But up on the hill
I learned a lesson
Even in ostentation
I didn't forget the alley