100 TRACKS

Yeah
Cashmoneyap
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, skinny
Uoh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Kio
Uoh (kio), yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

It doesn't matter what they say, it doesn't matter what they talk about
Mami, they can't match me, yeah
I sell tickets like in ten countries
Mami, I sell tickets like nobody else
New car every six months
Baby, I don't even have a place to park it
I don't give a damn about your Warner contract
All yours are still starving
These shits get cocky quickly
They release a couple of songs and already think they're big
Someone should educate them
It seems like their mother didn't do it

Baby, they want everything I have
They're always copying but it doesn't work for them
In the game, baby, everything is known
Damn fame, makes everyone the same
Baby, overflowing with style (yes)
Gucci, Prada, Moschino
Two hundred on the meat platter
Mami, another two hundred in the wine bottle
The contracts are like footballers'
Three million just for ten tracks
I write all my damn bars
They do nothing and call themselves artists
(And the award for best artist or breakthrough group goes to)
I built a house like those on booking
I put a jacuzzi on the terrace

Baby, life is now rose-tinted
All this luxury is paid for by the music
I'm from the neighborhood, mami, I'm hood rich
You're pussy fucking groupies
I'm a legend, crazy, you're a rookie
All your money goes to the labels, baby, yeah

100 songs already playing on the street and all written by me (hey, mmm)
We don't need to kiss anyone's ass or follow anyone (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Independent and operational company (yeah, mm-mmm, ja)
We're stuck, mami (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Skinny

Baby, I am the crown
You think you're street, you think you're morad
Old bitch, crying and crying
Because I entered the game and stayed in your area
You were poor and you're still poor
I started poor, crazy, and look at me now
It's eighty for singing an hour
Damn, drugs ate you up

Baby, my life is written in songs
We fill stadiums, we earn millions
We come from below, from the alleys
Now our faces on the TVs
I'm skinny, remember my name
Put my ass on the cover of Forbes
Legendary, I'm on fire, moltres
I made a mold, golden gold teeth (hey)
Gold records, platinum records

Baby, enemies, many enemies
In my life a couple of traitors are talking shit because they're screwed
Take my name out of your mouth
You're a rat and you always have been (eh, yeah)
Here we hit all the songs without getting on the radio or on Viva Latino
You're too old to stand up to me
They pretend and have nothing (ah-ah)

They're buying Gucci at the outlets
Mami, I'm flexing the new season
You spit bars but they're lies
You're just talking about my life
I have the Ferrari parked in his life
Baby, these bars have changed my life, yeah-yeah