El Día En Que Murió El Arte

You know, sometimes I think I've lost faith,
I've lost faith in this fake hypocritical industry,
where many call themselves artists,
it's not rare, they choose you to be the new revelation of the year.
In this country of ignorant and uncultured people who climb steps with insults and deceit,
they put you on a diet, they put makeup on you,
they tell you what to sing because the selling formula is that,
they write the songs for you and make the emptiest, vain, and catchy music possible,
that's how you'll succeed for sure, while you're just a damn puppet in the hands of fat and cigar-smoking businessmen.
Go on stage, come on, kick a little and take ridiculous steps to a catchy beat,
moving the puppet, a handful of endless lies.
Investing millions in lying to persuade the typical idiots who are still amazed
by your subliminal messages that a better life is possible.
You call yourself an artist, you're just the last link in the chain of the pathetic
Spanish music business, they'll squeeze you like a sponge until they get all the juice out of you,
and when you're no longer useful, they'll go after someone else and you'll end up in the forgotten drawer,
famous and regretful, art cannot be modified or simplified to make it sellable.
You fill your sales charts with the most vile trash on the planet,
it's unbelievable, hip hop is untouchable and unaltered, hip hop is deep and real and will always be.
We will continue to be craftsmen of the truth we live, while you are just shadows
of the shadows of a sad scam, the day art died.