eso está muy jazzudo

Negro it's cold outside
I don't have smoke
And I don't want to go out
To buy more
The sound of the downpour
Is going to undermine me
My deepest
Ambitions until
I can't take it anymore

Dani arrives and I ask him
If he's going to roll one
He tells me that with this weather
How can you not smoke?
From the sound comes jazz and
How can you not sing
My raps, a spring
My room, the source

From Ontario to Myanmar
From my closet to your home
I bring up topics without knowing
Where they will end up
Children of the asphalt, the rain
And the sugar cane field
When it comes to rapping
There's always a desire for more

It sounds bouncy like
Curry's pass in the all-star game
Jazzy life, I want to hear
Coltrane in an old car
And the life I tell you about
In my notes is little
But it's my real world
Not pious lies

So I don't have to act
I'll never win an Oscar
I don't care
It's nothing to me
I want to be able to stop
And make it alive to my comeback
To leave rap high
Before entering the grave

I look at the issue of those
Who follow the same script
The same shit as yesterday
I say "shit, here we go again"
Shelf rappers
Whose industry is their chisel
They compete against my shit
And the vortex swallows them

Please never come back
Because now I'm as I wanted
From my eternal tranquility
The beat will be my accomplice
I always write on my phone
To not waste my pencils
Because when it comes to writing
You don't have a bit

Word up, kid
My topics are not sticks
They are baseball bats
The Babe Ruth of the new story
A foolish guy
Negro, shut up because
The session is about to start
Let the piano play
And then we'll talk about that

Come on
Let me hear my
Jazzy shit again