Cacatúa (part. Pj Sin Suela)

It smells already, squawking even on the radio
It smells, know-it-all you're behind
It smells, body shop all over the neighborhood
It smells, I'm calm, I won't listen to you

And if it catches you dancing, it'll eat your ear
Lots of chit-chat but never behind bars
All show-offs, blasphemies, and complaints
You're a big mouth, you don't even leave me leftovers

They know from Barcelona to Puerto Rico
That you're a Cockatoo
They're talking too much
You're a Cockatoo!

They're talking too much
You're talking a lot of crap... No Sole!

Let's talk about worthwhile topics, baby
If we only have one night, I want it to
Be good
No problems or dramas, your movies
Are fake
And I'm here to kick the lies
Like Barça

Don't talk to me about brands, I don't need any
There's no track I can't break, easier than a
Card game
Tell me what you boast about and I'll tell you what you lack
Give me what you want, I'll give you what you deserve

Lots of cars, lots of money, lots of clothes
But little substance in the soup
Ugh! What a stench, it smells like crap
You're talking, Cockatoo, shut your mouth