Headshot

I don't have a heart, they took it out without a surgery
There's blood everywhere when I walk in the room
I smoke a bong, till my lungs are filled with smoke
I want to feel again, you know that feeling

As a nerd or a bully, as an adult in a suit or prison
Polish it shot by shot, take it and hold on tight
At night in the alley, I drink till the sun comes up
May God save that kid from that place, but it's a minor issue

I jump the fence armed with courage, like a man for the booze
Grab the gun from the drawer, and I locked it
Three shots at the first one who passed
With his girl on one arm and a Dior bag in the other
He sold it, but here the walls see everything
And karma doesn’t warn but it came back around
It returns favors for a favor
Let’s not end up in a fight over what was supposed to be a goodbye

Plato's theories, I don’t believe in love
I believe in fucking hard and us both cumming
Now you imagine how he is me, but he’s not
That’s why you read his messages but with my voice
I get a burst of inspiration, in the first car
Of this train that’s going nowhere
The little boy, with hawk eyes
Trusts few people, he already knows betrayal

Before being a politician, I’d rather be a straight-up thief
This is for the entrepreneur drowning
In bills in an oppressive country
For the grandpa without a pension who’s worked his whole life
So a bastard can get rich
For the kid who’s got an education
And is locked up in a school because the system leaves him no choice
It’s for the revolution
For the times they shot rubber bullets at us and we threw back Molotovs

We hold the pressure, me and the whole population
Let the mayor prepare another sermon
You can see on his face that he lacks conviction
I only believe in the youth academy because that’s my religion
I don’t want your blessing, I want to find a solution
I store will-o'-the-wisps and release them in every song
Precision shots, the million-dollar question
How many crimes does a rich person have to commit to go to prison?

The lower class is cannon fodder
Those who, along with taxes, pay for the coke and everything
The middle class is another situation
Those who get the ticket for easing the addiction
A change is our mission, I smoke and my vision clouds
I ooze essence like a siphon
We’re anchored, holding on through this cyclone
What sets me apart is my gift, it makes me not be average

Like Barça, I look for the combination
Tiki-taka till the cops knock knock
And the door didn’t open, but the crowbar knocked it down
Your rights mean nothing against their corruption
The patriarch and his cane, burned green and smoke comes from the rototom
I don’t want him to take a statement
We’re the turning point, like Biggie and Snoop Dogg
One two, two three, headshot