Fome

The desire to want to earn your space along with your gang
The desire to travel the world making sound
That's what I call hunger
Hunger, Murica, two thousand and always

Neither divine, nor diabolic, psychedelic
Neither celestial, nor satanic, a bit cynical
My gang comes from within, from the underground
Nightmare of tyrants, call the superintendent
Another Latin American stray dog
Boom bap as religion
Urban legion
About twenty like me

Poets destined to go against the flow
Sweet ambition
New smokes, directions, ideas
Skate in the veins, live with her
Live experiences and shit on the rule
And if it's not too much to ask
Inspiration to write this one more
I ask

And despite the stumbles
I feel alive
So I pray and thank
I feel alive
Alive

Kid, rap is affinity with the traits
It's not just buying the paint, it's intimacy with the frames
Being connected to the root
It's the advantage of walking barefoot
So burn the shoes

Simple life inspires, the complex kills
If you let Babylon invade you, it grabs you
But it doesn't pass here
I have the blessing of the beetle and in my pocket, the razor
I would die to write, I killed my reason
I would eat the street, I would go hungry, I would write bread
Sanity? Madness? Who will say?
Who's right, huh?

And despite the stumbles
I feel alive
So I pray and thank
I feel alive

And despite the stumbles
I feel alive
So I pray and thank
I feel