Rap Bruto (feat. Nach)

[Nach]
My school has soul and boards
Goes with old sweatshirts, dirty Nikes, and a long beard
It doesn't need effects to embellish what it says
Raps what it sees, shoots you in two words
I started rapping simple, with a sample and temper
The hobby of a teenager lasts forever
A pro since 15, and doesn't give up, understands
Who puts his songs up for sale but doesn't sell himself
Chronic insolent who uses saliva bullets
My school was never a trend but it's still alive
We have initiative, perspective
If something doesn't motivate us
We raise the middle finger up
I'm talking about my team, those guys who leave you speechless
Legends who launch each writing into infinity
Others acting crazy and I'm keeping quiet
Closer to Kase than Jay-Z, I don't know if I'm clear
I have my clan following a plan to earn their bread
I have my fans looking for peace, they will find it in me
So many chatterers with no other desire than fame
Trophy to the lazy like a croissant when I see it, it's easy
Their music is childish and useless, mine is tactile
There will be no white flag on this mast
I know the rapper with a Nazi and hostile attitude is fragile
I mix my mind with TNT, and something so agile comes out
And like dolphins, their ends don't define me
You don't have it if you don't live it, don't opine, don't underestimate this name
Nach's sublime rhyme, it's something huge, tell me
How many fools I've struck down along with their melody
I let them rhyme, I see them swell and burst
There are many targets for my arrow
They think about their piggy bank and not the fight
They go without a torch, without a fuse
They're thrown out soon, because they've quickly passed their expiration date
I'm a man of my word, don't talk to me about numbers
Their songs are dry, my phrasing is wet
Sincere, without buts, without truces
Without mincing words that lick you
My shit is as serious as a spill
They see that I electrocute them and enjoy it
There's no substitute if I spit
Eight minutes of pure raw rap
I'm not moved if I'm not heard on radios
I'm heard in neighborhoods
My men have balls
My women have ovaries
But there are endings that imitate
It irritates me, they seek visits and money
They shout and scream, they get excited
Then they wither away
My music is dynamite
It decapitates them, takes away their ego
Then it's normal for them to resign
I arrive, I hurt them, I'm pure poison
When I speed up, I sneak into their game, I sink them
I'm like ice, I freeze their jealousy
They suffer for money, I knock them down
I chain them, I throw my thunder at them
Unrestrained, I sound and rumble, that's how resounding
I only want true warriors saving my world

[Nach and Residente]
Lots of jungle, little tiger
Lots of gunpowder, little caliber
Son of a bitch, aim at me
You can't handle Nach and Residente

Lots of jungle, little tiger
Lots of gunpowder, little caliber
Son of a bitch, aim at me
You can't handle Nach and Residente

[Residente]
I, I, I have no school
Without the wind blowing, I learned to sail sailboats
My rhyme on top of a cumbia impacts however it wants
I don't follow any school because I'm self-taught
I never followed the rules with generic rap tracks
With a Peruvian cajón, I wrote Latin America
My rap doesn't follow any sergeant's orders
Son of a bitch, I created my own movement
That narrates and without claws tears you apart
I didn't grow up listening to 2Pac, I grew up with Violeta Parra
And when I spell, I educate them without a blackboard
With just two bars, I rock them without a guitar
I don't believe in rap gods, much less in kings
I am fucking gravity defying the laws
I am order but when it gets messed up
All my lines are curved, I always break the rules
Lying under the shade of a palm tree, relaxed
Competing against myself because I have no one by my side
I like to abuse the posh rappers
I leave the R printed on their asses
Before I finish that beer
I easily torture them alone
I take away their Instagram and they become insecure again
I don't think your trend will last
The fifteen-year-olds who follow you today
Won't follow you when they mature
Lots of selfies and little content
They take longer in the dressing room than doing sound checks
Their concerts are all the same
Few rhymes, few band, lots of fireworks
They don't escape me when I write
They're easy to identify because they dress in flashy colors
I've never seen these little rappers' faces
I always see them from behind
When I put them on all fours and lift their skirts
And I fuck them in both holes
Without support, I sweep them away, in a Creole style
I turn them into chicken broth
The police are looking for me for sexual harassment
And for being perverse because like Kase O: I'm a rapist of verses
And I read, because with both legs I kick
In freestyling from the free throw line, I dunk it
And without delay, when I get angry, with my words
I put them to speak in Arabic even the Hebrews
Sometimes I rap so fast that I don't see the alphabet
I slap the thugs
Like a grandmother's novel without a job
My tongue performs acrobatics never seen before
It's a juggler, a true artist
And like Michael Jackson, I moonwalk on the track
No one can resist the resident
When he lowers them hot, I literally put them on their knees
Like the believers in the Middle East
Kneel and pray, I'm a Taliban, rhyming short head
With my skill, I take their heart with my mouth and put it on the table
On top of bread and hamburger
With mayonnaise and Japanese sauce
And a little strawberry juice
I have them for breakfast, my tongue never stumbles
When it seizes them, it pierces them with nature
My alphabet soup begins, open the dam because the piece has arrived
That is missing in the puzzle