La Verdad Del Pobre

We all have a hidden mystery inside
The truth of the poor is the lie of the rich
I was a sad child, now I’m an adult
And in my chest, there’s frost from hits, gunshots, and insults

And I don’t usually talk about it
Because it burns me to the bone
I never touch the subject, I was a troublemaker in my past
But I know what hunger is and the pain a prisoner carries

That’s why I don’t talk about money and I don’t talk about bitches
25 bucks pays for a day in a trap house
I worked twelve hours for what a ceviche costs
That’s how we are at home, we grow up tough

I drank water from the canteen
Dad’s an engineer and my mom’s a teacher
Me and my dreaming mind
Escaping the clouds to bite the dawn

And I don’t know how many candles mom lit
In a hallway bleeding next to dad
She’d say: My little boy, that’s not the way
Matías was born, changed my life, and here I am

The little cart I wanted, I bought
The dream of a little house came true
I teamed up with this skinny guy and without losing faith
I kept my promise to Dad and Dad kept his promise to me

And this goes between the lines so you don’t read it
My wickedness is so clear that even if you see it
I’m more ambiguous than my album and sweeter than jelly
If it’s not Alka, mom, or Rami, don’t believe them

Yesterday
A sigh made room for me
Without answering me
Without answering me
Without knowing
My life took a turn
And the devil sleeps
All alone he sleeps