La esperanza (Con Abram y DJ Joaking)

There are moments when everything goes slow and you're tense.
They are times of waiting, work, and introspection.
All my concentrated energy waits inside. It's feeling, love for what you're hearing; rap every moment, every second of the day. All for an obsession, intuition guides me. Many laughed at me, said silly things to me. A few others supported me, yes, they were my guide. In this dark and dense ascent, a thousand dangers await, the way to arrive is not written in any book.

Only an animal instinct with an awake mind, only a master key can open any door. Only hits, it's the secret that every warrior hides. Alone, no one can draw blood from an inkwell for me. I only came out of the deepest hole you can imagine. To arrive, to make it resounding, is the sorrow of those who suffer from the disease of envy. I look at my rap because it's my life, my rage. It kills my phobias.

Calm and merciless, I put my heart in the eye of this cyclone, and I give time to my reason to reflect on everything. Hope and a decade walking in the mud. She spoke to me, said: 'You are a king, don't doubt it.' Nights with poisons in the veins, lost in clubs, beyond the clouds there's a sip of fresh air.

Just endure, wash in the throat, always feel when he sings. Today evil flees, with the ink he experiments. Hope paints, his soul offers his shame, opens doors with the strength of his mind. Who is he? Always with projects in mind, always a plan D. Long bad streaks, like deserts my crises. Without water until catharsis, I reached an oasis.

When I walked disoriented under the storm, when I fought alone with no weapons but ink, when all the hatred leaned on my scale. When nothing helped me, I kept my hope. When everyone asked me to settle scores, when I helped to escape with the shit, when I felt nothing but a lump in my throat. When nothing helped me, I kept my hope.

When you, and you, and you claimed to be my friends, and you didn't have time to chat calmly with me. When I had that half-gram cancer, in the form of a deadly addiction, where were you, brother? If they talked shit about me and you were there, laughing at their jokes to be cooler, do you understand? Now I don't give a damn, thank you very much, I became strong. I know I only have myself, that's enough.

They touched my self-love, but I always believed in myself. When I hit rock bottom, I wrote; when I was reborn; when I merged with the paper in my beginnings. For the first time, I knew it was my beginning as an MC. In this well of words, I refresh myself, I drink from its waters so that the rest sweats me. Each cut, a manifesto, an ode to freedom. Those who follow me, raise their fists, it's loyalty to the life that mother gave me and fought for. Out of 3,700 cynics, I came out unscathed. I stress, I distress, and I go out again. Fog in the fridge and all your clique by the horns. Yes, you will learn when things go wrong. It's a matter of knowing how to listen, a matter of strength.

When I walked disoriented under the storm, when I fought alone with no weapons but ink, when all the hatred leaned on my scale. When nothing helped me, I kept my hope. When everyone asked me to settle scores, when I helped to escape with the shit, when I felt nothing but a lump in my throat. When nothing helped me, I kept my hope.

Hope is pure, hope is green; when you think it's lost, you soar and it returns. It's like seeing rain, knowing that light waits outside your dark karma. Your being disarms the beasts, you see hope dancing where you never imagined. It's in crossed-out pages, facades that contaminate, beyond minds, beyond unattainable goals; beyond torments, beyond unbearable times. I am my own judge, and thus I suicide joys; nothing serves as a living to a puppet that doesn't trust. I write ellipses, lying in my nest; captive among words, I was never defeated. I am a walker with changing skin, my end is your death; inert destiny, luck is wandering and crying. Even my song drowns in a pit. My mind is my noose, my drug, it lies to me and steals from me. Pray for this monk who doesn't believe in your voracious peace, help me to revive after this white darkness.

I hope for I don't know what, I don't know who, I don't see Eden. I endure a hundred atmospheres of pressure on my temple; anxiety disorders, orfidal and transilium. Your pandemonium won't stain my rap curriculum; coherence, my camouflage is my transparency. The difference is only in learning from experience. Here landscapes and worlds to travel are dreamed, what someone wants to learn is taught. I know wanting is power, and not wanting, damn, is strange.

When someone has the power to harm this hermitic hermit, guardian who guards his lair, heals his wound, while he breathes and leaves his life asleep. I know hope fixes my scale, makes me see tomorrows of yesterdays in the distance. Its fragrance brings calm, it's perfume for the soul; it tames me and wakes me from this coma. It reincarnates in days of concord, erases my phobia from the map while 3,700 cynics annoy me. Remember, my complexes are yours. MC of murmurs and in your hatreds I don't include myself. I recover respect, destroy nonconformity. Only hope saves me from the black abyss.