Brusgüein

Dad, why do they mess with me if I don't do anything?
You do, dumbass
Dad, I'm tired, I swear I hate the fame
Then retire and stop whining
Dad, why do you mess with me? If I don't do anything
You throw the stone and hide your hand again!
Dad, I'll never tell anyone that I admired you
You want to disguise your lack of balls as elegance!

I'm going

In this life there are two types of people
Those who tell the truth and those who take others for fools
Those who argue and those who don't even reason
Who gets depressed and gets out, and who never reacts
Those who say and do, and shut mouths
I, with a long song, told everything, made it short
Those who claim they won't do something and have little word
Then they do it and eat their 'blah, blah, blah' like cakes
Those of us who are responsible and accept our actions
Those who deny what they do trying to be abstract
Those who learn from life and those
Who stumble on the same stone, and so every day
Not everyone has a double face I said in the song
'The thief thinks everyone is of his condition'
Aims and shoots, and as always hides the cannon
Never learns, never changes his way of action
Oh, he says he won't answer me
While he answers me in a whole song
That's why the word of the king of contradiction has no value
I go straight and face it, this is for you, like the cards
Are you a dignified anti-salsa? You make everyone split
You spit shit about exes, social collectives
Liberal women, artists and genres, let me continue
You say names and surnames, your themes are the witnesses
It takes balls for you to talk about elegance, you know?
Neither you nor I are precisely David Beckham
The difference is that I am one who knows when they sin
Don't lie, you despise me, probably more than I do you
What I feel is pity, puppet, you can see you suffer
It bothers you that they comment that you lost something special
'You don't care what they say', but you attack your fans
Who don't understand and leave the damn past behind
And you make a thousand sequels, contradicting once again
Like a little kid, you seek approval
You repeat like garlic saying 'I'm already older'
But it's not a matter of age, your insides are rotten
Being so stupid is not cured even if you go to the doctor
I live off rap without being a superstar like you and seriously
I'm going to ask and think about it
Since you like mystery so much
Could it be that your fans are older and no longer let themselves be fooled?
I grow little by little and you're going backwards
Why do you think you don't fill Luna Park?

Dad, why do they mess with me if I don't do anything?
You do, dumbass
Dad, I'm tired, I swear I hate the fame
Then retire and stop whining
Dad, why do you mess with me? If I don't do anything
You throw the stone and hide your hand again!
Dad, I'll never tell anyone that I admired you
You want to disguise your lack of balls as elegance!

Come back for more! You never learn, dumbass
Your elegance is a slip in your mother's panties
Because I, I'm not elegant
Neither are you, half booger, but you still don't know it!
Fool! You're a fool, you're a fool in the fine herbs
And I'm a very bad guy who beefs with you for no reason
It's all in my mind, I'm crazy!
I'm like the Joker, Ha Ha Ha! Fool, fool!
'Hip Hop needs me' Ha Ha Ha!
You make me laugh, damn it!
Bruce Wayne? Ha Ha! My balls!