La Misión (con arma blanca)

I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you. I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you.

Born on May 13th with the desire to mess up the world, they said he was the son of God and the Devil united in one. He brought with him his forbidden gospel, his commandment; to spread the 4 elements with a nocturnal regiment, making his way through blocks of concrete and cement. Writing their names with an outline, and with rap looking for a way to elevate us. It's your turn, to conquer a throne, for your life to revolve around a microphone.

Well, each theme is a new return of the MCs, who deserve to rock this MIC, to make their rap. Bringing us violins, pianos, and hard bass with which their flow fit among boxes. With which he formed his army, allied with the kicks, and snares. His main weapon, his mind, to break the calm at the bottom of an abyss like Osama, launching planes to your walkman. Today, who plots an ambush, against him his verse spills over you between platforms. For what dramas, why talk about someone who doesn't give more. They already have enough with their traumas.

Like monkeys, trying to climb up to the top of the branches, and with rhymes contaminating their doctrine, leaving minds in ruins, while the mine of his pencil runs out. Dodging mines that left victims among cocaine, they lacked discipline that now walk in the opposite direction that now sounds on their tape. The future is approaching, it won't be that focus that illuminates you. This storm does not calm down, because it got trapped between hills. It's Lom C and Madnass, when the mic unsheathes, and Chimo dominates on the technics. They motivate you with attacks on every corner, also shared with 'hey, hey, what's up, man' in this attack, since the mission is to empty the mine. Load your parrot with alkalines, once again rewind.

I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you. I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you.

That I don't go stumbling, hiding in corners. I respond to your actions, far from using cannons. It's different this time, I speak in his memory, and in that of the immense minority, it's my story. They are things that end before they begin; they are pieces that don't fit, I came to pray on a box. Tell Zar, that I came to give what I always gave, as I did so long ago, as so many people did. It's intelligent rap to bury my hatred; only Hip-Hop, urgent letters filling another page.

Looking for greatness among small things, looking inside a tear waiting to see what it teaches. Today the signal is my password, I only come to seal the link, here is the password. This is my star and I observe from afar, walking carefully, I go with old memories. Imagine a city lost there in another time, in a dimension different from the one I frequent. Tell me if you're in, that I came to take stock, talk about Hip-Hop from the beginning in my story. I speak of years ago, when everything was strange, when to escape deceit, I composed my dreams to extinguish my insignificant childhood harms.

Far from customs and distant peaks, among faithful companions, I was just another passenger. Another link in a chain of different aroma. They sought crowns, little by little, the course changed. Did the world change? No, only their affairs changed. And condemned to sail between two seas, two; between two cities, two; between two stories, two places, I gave my life there, I put it on that paper, and thus a relentless struggle is fought within my prison.

I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you. I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you.

At the end of '78, I saw the light for the first time; few imagined that I came to fulfill a mission. Something simple with dialectics, offering a vision of everything that sons of bitches did with distortion. I grew up, and in my behavior there was never torsion, I was rigid, and in me Hip-Hop was essential, like a certain tasteless liquid. Thanks to it I could see everything clearly, and I met the microphone, with which I have lived since then, sharing a perfect symbiosis.

That's how my life began, what others call psychosis today, overcoming all shame like the diaeresis. The day will come when there will be no more parentheses in it, for now I am for Nazis, what luminosis is for buildings. I am the one who shows your children what catechesis did not do, the one who puts all his emphasis on messing with cops, wrapping his rhymes in good hash smoke, making solid theses out of remote hypotheses.

I am pure ecstasy, too dangerous in any dose. My story is a feature film based on reality; my rap is its synopsis, which speaks of me and when I found myself trapped in an involuntary state of hypnosis. Swimming in shit like a fish in the Thames, but if self-esteem had been money, my name would be Onassis. Only thanks to it I overcame my crisis, and embarked on the path to my metamorphosis, leaving aside MCs with cerebral paralysis. Creating an oasis in the midst of the apocalypse from my genesis as a B-Boy, that's how I reached my apotheosis and suffered my catharsis. I created my own guidelines, wrote lyrics with blood from wounds that are now scars. Those that make this boy today careful of what he says. Born to be an MC, in my language I developed my biceps.

I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you. I am like this, born to be an MC. I chose it, no one did it for me. I decided what I wanted my life to be, boy, yours depends only on you, only on you.

There are many sons of bitches out there, but I am not one of them. I only know how to throw lightning, leave a mark, move necks. A mission that began with a clear decision, and today there are 5 who come with precision. Of those who know, who don't know how to fail; of those who don't know how to be silent, of those who don't know how to wear a collar. I shine again, arrive and show audacity, while clumsy ones who want to succeed, resort to the pharmacy.

I met rhyme, it was love at first listen. I was born to be an MC and so I directed my life. Those rap kids in the eardrums of neighbors, later teenagers, dogs marking their scent on your corner. Men looking to save the Rima Soldier. Spain, Latin America and the world behind my curtain. What do you think, are you up for it? Only my potions will dry your tears. Arma Blanca, in your face like Tim Duncan. The bank wins, while B-Boys in the stands jump.

Many try, but they can't stand it; they face it, burst, stand up, know they can't reach us. I want my rhymes to grow, to remain. I want my voice to be like your light when night falls. I want them to be convinced once and for all, that a rap that is not in fashion will never go out of style. It's winning on stages, not by email or in a chat. Why rap? Tell me, why rap? Lom C, Dass, Madnass, the knight of the mixing table. And there will be no souls that bring relaxation against this anthrax.

Follow the beat, and feel the power of an art with which I am going to touch you, conquer you, talk to you and give you the best part of me; to undress myself and undress you like that, also to you, to all my homies. I did it, although many are still to me, like a white and a blue-red, a Yankee and an Iraqi. I appeared, I won like Mohammed Ali, in an eternal reflection, although I am not Talib Kweli. I am happy here, happy like this. Always different, I only paint by instinct, lost in the labyrinth, but I have plenty of character. I have a mic and matters to resolve, and not even Mr. Revolver will stop me.

I come willing to win, to do and undo, to make the big blow and then disappear. Recognize that among my straw you will not find the needle. What can you do if a crater has opened in your city? Every word I write causes spasms. Every verse crosses the cosmos, much better than an orgasm. I don't come alone, today I am accompanied by a golden flow. Buddies who go down to the Moor and friends who are on the lookout. In rap heads will roll and this is not Sleepy Hollow. I just place it and polish you. Fools, you are just pins before my imminent strike. Right, you just turn on the MIC, and do what you must like Spike.

I leave it to you, jerk; don't make rap your profession, that's my advice. You will be like a rabbit hunted by a lion. You will be like a pawn in the service of an industry without passion, without compassion. Labels that claim to be serious dream of creating empires, and lack criteria to adapt their means. Hip-Hop doesn't want Burger King marketing. Hip-Hop wants agile duels of styles in a ring. Hip-Hop only wants duels on endless floors. Painted facades, decorating your city-garden.

And that Hip-Hop I come to save, open the doors of your heart wide open and let me in. Despite everything, the show must go on. Despite not advancing, not finding someone to love. Despite the beatings, the shattered dreams, stepping on quicksand, despite you. When you criticize me, my mission, against which you compete. My mission, to go from huts to elites, to reach where you are and finally make you need me.