El Liricista En El Tejado

Take a guy from the neighborhood, put him in an expensive place.
He will ask the prices with arrogance until you're fed up.
That's why I don't plan to take you where I don't belong.
That's why I don't sell my ass on the cover photo.
You talk about nothing in songs that say nothing.
It's ten o'clock at night, Seville is illuminated.
People at the bus stop.
Always strong, Tote and Shotta beyond the cannon.
Taking a piss, we have our own cross.
Back wet from the heat, looking for a light.
What an instrumental, my partner produces for me.
Seville gets rid of the style I imposed.
My rage that knocked down half of Spain.
After six years, there's only one group that tarnishes me.
The worst scum is the one born these days.
The cold blood of the CIA and the police.
How many kisses would I give you to keep me on the sidelines.
To make myself invisible to the rappers in the street image.
Get off the bus and run, cut through, because only scraps are left.
Foreign MCs survive by renting their ass.
For the next LP, I pose naked, I don't have a face to change the world.
I have a face that carries some nauseating thought inside.
I spit with pride in every sentence.
I flow like the trumpets of this beat, what are you doing, man.
Hide the shine of your class.
When I pass through the planet, it smells like a package and it smells like a base.
I changed neighborhoods, filled with tears.
Pinomontano remains in my notebook on every page.
Tágena, you've gone crazy after not doing anything.
And after taking so many grams, you're left hanging, like my balls.
And with no will, there are writers who end up with a cardigan.
And with no desire, let Cardenas sign you up for the chronicles.
You, I am the guardian of my brother.

Chorus:

Hey! poet, do you feel forgotten, a lyricist on the roof.
Alone, think of me, what does it matter, take flight... listen to it!
The city breathing...

If the public complains about a song without a moral.
From the roof, I throw them a tile.
It's easier to look from above, swallow saliva.
Because the message says 'Seville doesn't let me'.
I have initiative, a complex comfort.
Love, sex, and drugs, I'll be your new Humphrey Bogart.
The government censors the god Bacchus and not tobacco.
Come on, Pako, get hooked on graffiti and not on the jacket.
To problems, I bring solutions, I have a deal.
I piss on contracts.
And if I fail, I kill myself in a fit of jealousy.
Applaud my depressions that I freeze on paper.
And I want to go up to my rooftop and send an 'I love you' to the sky.
For those who have gone, where do they go, I know they will never return.
I start a new day and without bread, there's no plan.
I take Juan, I hang out in the park.
It's early, and the kids will already be dancing break-dance.
Things are that simple here.
Get rich with two lights and a few seeds.
I love you, Seville, if you can, you catch yourself.
With a jab in the rib, life doesn't catch the wolf.
Run, flee from the noose, see you at the levee of 'dog seeks dog'.
I'll be your new Humphrey Bogart, the lyricist on the roof.
Your touched sunken transatlantic.
The repentant dog returns with his tail between his legs.
His nose split, his gaze so tender.
Reformatories intern them, bye-bye Vietnam.
I shit on your Wu-Tang Clan clothes.
Life is being destroyed smoking beaten up bad, run and tell them.
That there are acorns for six thousand.
Grant them councilors for the city hall, Pinomontano City.
And I live outside like a tourist, harakiri.
2001 Odyssey in the mud, I am the guardian of my brother.

Chorus