Tyrion

I've seen some secrets in the polygon
They think they're on secret missions by the Pentagon (B-29)
Scampia, Secondigliano, shootouts in Bergamo
Those sons of bitches shake my hand
They call me 'brother' and don't even know my name (Álvaro)
They only ask when there's something in between, when there's a gram
Like a dog, I lick my wounds

In the mountains, you can see Moby Dick behind the poplar
To the mountain where we'll bury the master
Love, I'm plotting the next stretch
They're processing my breathing, not even tramadol calms me
I grab the car, I go to Tembleque to crush a loaf with Gamo
There will be time to go to the fjords to gorge on a salmon
Or a swordfish, the back in a beautiful moor
You and I fighting in bed like Samoans (like UFC)
Lost in the village like Tibetan mastiffs
I won't argue that I saw it murky, very murky
But I got in the car, fixed the pipe and put in the turbo
Turbulence in the studio
Writing, I think I'm in Quito (Ecuador)
Getting rid of that, I rid myself of this martyrdom
His eyes were Valyrian fire
I won't even tell you how much when the lily lit up
Glassy looks full of things through the glass
Outside the mold always like Kyrgios
Fighting 24/7 just like Tyrion

Smelling like AK-47, not like 1 Million (not like 1 Million)
I've cried oceans, but I've laughed on weekends
I've lost finals like Diego Alves, Víctor Valdés
Your promises were in vain (in vain)
And your soul in Valdemingómez
You're my Carmina Ordóñez
With your swings, when you show off with your Hermes bag
With your deck inside to play poker, a couple of muses (all in)
Months will pass and pass

I know what you'll always do even if you don't love me
If you follow me and I block you, believe me, I'll send you more DMs (DM)
(We won't even share DMT)
(I don't know what, but you owe me something; MDMA)
I've lost loves in doorways for hanging out with such friends
Disappointments to my parents
I want to ask the kings for your elles
I arrived late to Yepes
In half an hour my brother picks me up and we arrive in Yeles
Through Los Yébenes looking for dollars in a couple of chalets
We're making S's through Argüelles
Kids smoking L, dreaming of a Mercedes
I've disinfected my spirit of worms
See this? I'm about to throw it, I have it in stock
My buddies are handling the rototom like the streets of Stockton
Like in Utah Jazz Malone and Stockton
The son is more hooked on the iPhone than the old man on money
Speaking plainly, so much pressure eventually explodes
They were a happy family with a van, a house, plots
They traveled the plateau, went to the Delta river, flew the kite
The hang glider so big it wouldn't even fit in the shed
They happily rode their bikes
And now only the covers remain (the covers)

And that's how tough life is, doors close
You have to fight and settle accounts with the mirror (accounts)
For playing with fire, cousin, and never better said
Your mother crying at the niche
Life takes many turns
You crossed the line with the trincho
I would kill Don Quixote if I were Sancho
Madrid rules, rulas and bules
From Sanchinarro to Estrecho

Go have dinner at Estrecho, I'll have a snack at my ranch
Some nachos with triple sauce in my mess
So calm breaking some pistachios from Froiz
Listening to the sorrows of my boys who come with relapses from Caíz (relapses)
Also to Supernafamacho
A lot of boys, my friend wants me to put on Ferxxo
We're always the same, man (always the same)
I'll put it on when you pass me the clencho
Don't look back, boy, what's done is done
Don't dig into your past or you'll get sick (you'll get sick)
Pucho said it or in Pachá Pocholo
He'll always be in my shadow like Piccolo

(In my shadow, fucking Piccolo)
(In my fucking shadow)
(Always behind me, the bastard; eh-eh)
(In my fucking shadow; in my shadow)