LAR

We were kids, just naive kids
The neighborhood was our home
And we were the fruit of a foreign people
Who immigrated to try to dream
The closest school was unlike anything else there
In my world, it was difficult to study
There was no affection, they were brutes, they called us rude
They hit and said that these people didn't apply themselves
I failed, I failed, I didn't cry
Because I was already angry with some little kids
That parents spoiled, enjoyed
They said school is your second home, but for different people it was the zoo
I rebelled, I hit one, I got tired and it went boom
It was just full, it wasn't my fascination
They suspended me on the fifth, they set up a circus
They were scared, they said I was a murderer

I just felt good in the neighborhood, I saw a home there
Nobody cared about language and color
And whenever I changed scenery I came back angry
Because what I felt is not love

I lost respect at home
They doubted I was a good kid
It was a complex phase for me, it was nothing but absurd
I stayed at home from Monday to Friday alone from hood hum
And that's when I discovered the dark world
Dealing with kids like me
When you're not mature
Any motherfucker you see as a God
This neighborhood went from oxygen to a mousetrap and I was the defendant
What did I do to deserve such an award?
If processes are trophies
If I hadn't hit one, I wouldn't have been suspended from the cycle
Finished high school, invested in other curricula
My destiny, whoever wrote it, gave a mission to pitbulls
And today who would I be if I skipped this chapter?
I'm curious, actually, I didn't learn anything from the dangerous side
Because life gave me rules when I was still young
I lost brothers, none got away
What I experience today is miraculous
And the life of a boss, which we aspired to, is far away

I just felt good in the neighborhood, I saw a home there
Nobody cared about language and color
And whenever I changed scenery I came back angry
Because what I felt is not love

Not everything that glitters is gold
Not every chest has treasure
All progress comes with tears
And it's from discomfort that calves become bulls