Low Budget

Oh, what the hell? My bad
Yo, What the hell?
What's up, dude?

Hmh, hey
Yo- Instead of leaving a trace, I leave entire songs
So they bury them with my shades and my fanny pack
Live like my buddies or live as I want?
I must watch out for my treacherous shadow (Uh-huh)

It wants to stab me with knives of lies
And maybe if I see it, I can tie it up with strips
Move it as I please, like a puppet
And if the turn fails, I die knowing I tried (Hey!)

Even if I paint my whole room, it's sad to live without themes for more than one occasion
The black man speaks when there's no inspiration
And draws a possible song in my eyes (How?)

Oblivion, where does it come from? (What?)
They ask how much it's worth (What?)
As if it mattered that they were going to pay him (Uh-huh)
In the end, they'll listen to me even in Harlem

Throughout Medallo, and along Camden
Every now and then, you have to take a spin
Touch the sky without flying in a hang glider
Experience it all in case I don't make it to 40, knowing the future is such an uncertain turn

They say: Talk about it, bro, I reply: Easy (Easy)
Craving cigarettes, and to make a mark (Make a mark)
That I'll be like a rapper, none in particular (Nah!)
I shout over the beats, with the rest I'm discreet (Okay!)

They get upset if I disagree with popular opinion
Did you write your bars or buy them on Linio?
I'm not refined, sorry if I don't hit the mark
But that's the least of it if I kill the beat

They say no, but I notice it in their eyes
Laughing with friends while their hearts are broken (Shit)
They see me apart, ask what I'm jotting down (How?)
I've already written a thousand songs; wait, I'm onto the next one

And they'll see me sitting among the trash cans, but if I'm in tune it's because my soul is healing
Any sidewalk will be my safe zone if I walk with headphones and no cops rushing me
And not fining, stealing
But they get scared of a crook (What?)

And they bust the buddy smoking listening to Wu Tang (Who's that?)
The dark-skinned guy with a tangled mane, matte black
Puts on a hoodie smelling like chocolate blunt
And hits the streets, chainless like Django

With a tasty sway, and without dancing the fandango
Without dirtying the sneakers, without stepping in the mud
And nodding along to Manu Dibango's funk (Na-na-na-na)
I don't answer WhatsApp to talk to the beat (What?)

I tell it my stories, my problems, how I do my tricks
Even though I'm not a trickster, I have techniques like Twister
I always carry a blister of rhymes to ease my shit

(Shit dude, that was lit)
Hey, dude; talk to me in Spanish, damn

Hey, I put out the cigarette on the sole of my sneaker
Themes arise from the ashes, like the phoenix
The neighborhood vibe among the boys and the ladies
Gets classy if they put Oblivion on the playlist

Hey, I put out the cigarette on the sole of my sneaker
Themes arise from the ashes, like the phoenix
The neighborhood vibe among the boys and the ladies
Gets classy if they put Oblivion on the playlist (Hey)

Son of a bitch, haha
Oblivion in this bitch
I'm gonna lose my voice, damn
Hey bro, what you gonna do?
Blonde bitch talking like that?
Oh! Oh
I'm not gonna say shit (Hahahahaha)
What you gonna do?