Capítulo 4, Versículo 3

60% of young people from the periphery with no criminal record
Have already suffered police violence
For every 4 people killed by the police, 3 are black
In Brazilian universities, only 2% of students are black
Every 4 hours, a young black man dies violently in São Paulo
Here speaking is Black Cousin, another survivor

My intention is bad, it empties the place
I'm on top, I'm willing, one, two to shoot
I'm much worse than you're seeing
The black here has no mercy, it's 100% poison
The first one goes bang, the second goes there
I have a mission and I won't stop
My style is heavy and makes the ground tremble
My word is worth a shot, I have a lot of ammunition
In the fall or in the rise, my attitude goes beyond
And has disposition for evil and good

Maybe I'm a sadist, or an angel
A magician, the judge or the accused
The bandit from heaven, sly or fool
Bloodthirsty priest, sharpshooter if necessary
Revolutionary, insane or marginal
Ancient and modern, immortal
Border of heaven with hell
Unpredictable astral
Like a heart attack from the verse
Violently peaceful
Truthful, I came to sabotage your reasoning
I came to shake your nervous and blood system
For me it's still not enough, Crazy Dog Brown
Number 1 day, terrorist from the periphery
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I have for you
A venomous rap or a burst of PT
And the prophecy was fulfilled as predicted
1997, after Christ
The black fury resurrects once again
Racionais Chapter 4, Verse 3

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Racionais in the air, sons of bitches, bang, bang, bang

It's cold in São Paulo
For me it's always good
I'm on the street in a cap and sweatshirt
Dim, dim, dom, rap is the sound
That emanates in the brown Opala
And hey, call Guilherme
Call Vander, call Dinho and Di
Marquinho call Éder, let's go
If the other guys come
In order everything is better
Who is who in billiards in dominoes

Two guys came by, one waved at me
In satin jacket, sneakers and jeans

Hey Brown, get out, don't even go, don't hang out
It's not worth paying attention to those types
Last night I saw on the edge of the asphalt
Inhaling death, blowing life up high
Look, the guys are just dust, skin and bones
At the bottom of the pit, several caught in the pocket

Look, no one is better than anyone
Look, look, they are our brothers too
But with cocaine and crack, whiskey and cognac
The guys die quickly without a prominent place

But who am I to talk about who sniffs or who smokes
No, I never gave you anything
You smoke what comes, clog your nose
Drink everything you see, make the devil happy
You'll end up like the other guy there
Who was a type A black
No one entered a, very stylish
In Calvin Klein pants and Puma sneakers
A humble way of being, at work and at the party
Liked Funk, played ball
Looked for his girl at the school gate
An example for us, great morals, great popularity
But started hanging out with the white boys from the mall
(Then it was over)
Hey man, another life, another vibe
Only elite girls, party, lots of drinks
Boutique whore, all that shit
Sex without limits, Sodom and Gomorrah

Huh, it's been about nine years
About fifteen days ago I saw the guy
You have to see, asking for a cigarette from the old men at the bus stop
Teeth all messed up, pocket with no money
The guy smells bad, the ladies are afraid
Very crazy from I don't know what early in the morning
Now it's no longer dangerous
Addicted, sick, fucked up, harmless

One day a black PM came to bother
And told me to get in my place
I see a guy in these conditions, it's not right
Is this how I should be?
Brother, the demon fucks everything around you
On the radio, newspaper, magazine and billboard
It offers you money, talks calmly
Contaminates your character, steals your soul
Then throws you in the shit alone
Turns a type A black into a little black
My word relieves your pain
Illuminates my soul, praised be my Lord
Who doesn't let the guy here go astray, ah
And not point the finger at any scoundrel
But let no son of a bitch ignore my law
Racionais Chapter 4, Verse 3

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Racionais in the air, son of a bitch, bang, bang, bang

Four minutes have passed and no one saw
The monster born somewhere in Brazil
Maybe the guy who works under the oil-stained car
Who frames the armored car in a fever with bloodshot eyes
The guy who delivers envelopes all day in the sun
Or the one who sells chocolate from traffic light to traffic light
Maybe the guy who defends the poor in court
Or who seeks a new life on probation
Someone in a wooden room reading by candlelight
Listening to an old radio in the back of a cell
Or the royal family of black like I am
A warrior prince who defends the goal

And I don't change, but I don't delude myself
The assholes have, I know everything
In exchange for money and a good position
There are guys who twerk and even wear lipstick
Several compatriots talk shit for everyone to laugh
Ha ha, to see the white boy applaud
Yeah, in your area there's even worse
Each one, each one, you feel alone
There's a guy who points a gun at you and means it
Blows your face for an old cassette player
Click bang, bang, bang and it's over
Without mercy and without pain, fuck your color
Clean the blood with your shirt and tell it to fuck off
You know why, where you're going, for what?
Goes from bar to bar, corner to corner
Get 50 bucks, exchange for cocaine

Finally, the movie is over for you
The bullet is not a prop, there's no stunt double
For the guys from Baixada Fluminense to Ceilândia
I know, the streets are not like Disneyland
From Guaianases to the far south of Santo Amaro
Being a type A black is expensive
It's fucked up, fucked up is watching the ad and seeing
You can't have that for yourself
Rich boy with an earring: Asshole, sucker
Robbed inside the car on Rebouças Avenue
Girls' little chain
The ladies with their bags
Money, I didn't have a father, I'm not an heir
If I were that guy who humiliates himself at the traffic light
For less than a real
My chance was slim
But if I were that kid in a beanie
Who cocks and sticks the barrel in your mouth
From the hood without clothes, you and your girl
One, two, didn't see me, already disappeared in the mist
But no, I remain alive, I continue the mystique
Twenty-seven years defying statistics
Your TV commercial doesn't fool me
I don't need status or fame
Your car and your money no longer seduce me
Nor your blue-eyed bitch
I'm just a Latin American guy
Supported by more than 50 thousand guys
Collateral effect that your system created
Racionais Chapter 4, Verse 3