SISAS NADA (remix) (part. Ryan Castro, Blessd y Kris R)

Yo, man, those fools are gonna break
That fool Tury, man
In Ibiza, I took out two, sisas, one lost her voice

And the other little chick kept my Hugo Boss, damn, fool
Hahaha, damn, damn, damn, damn
(Sisas nada, the remix)
(Haha, damn fool)

I got the number ten from Brazil, and I copped the Hugo Cow
Your girl’s naked, packing the flour
She kissed another girl, went out with a dude
And I called for exotic because she doesn’t smoke cheap

Yo, don’t talk or I’ll blow you up
And I’ll record you sucking and mention it
My house is a safari, I’m smoking with a monkey
Rolling one while I pull your hair

I always keep it fresh and with the McQueen kicks (oh, yeah)
Purple is what I smoke, and my jeans are purple too
Money’s got me loaded, plague, I don’t hit the gym
And all the blondes send me pics, the pests know what’s up (what’s up)

That the kid is a player, and the tussi moves like flow 00
You guys aren’t worth my pen
I only roll in a ride, plague, I’m a rude dude
They’re sending pics for likes, haha

White Mercedes, and the Nikes are white too (haha)
I don’t miss like Myke (like Myke)
The girls throwing glances when the kid’s around, bro-bro
The cars with the panoramic

For the getaway in sport mode, no automatic (fools)
I don’t panic, kid, here we cause panic
Your boyfriend’s crying, what a dramatic fool

Haha, damn, fool; damn, little fool
I got the tussi in the Mazda, in the glove box (ah)
So she can blow magic in the little farm
And if she sucks me right, I’ll get her some new tits

On the XADV (you know?), I stole it (ah, bro)
That Hugo Cow doesn’t let me see
What a cool roof I bought at JaraShop (jara)
But without a cap, I won’t put it in (not even for shit)

If he charges in the afternoon, the gift from Monastery
If the old man throws me the league, a bottle of Don Peri
I’m not like your boyfriend, who’s lame with the Burberry
My love, I’m a suitcase, original down to the kicks

Damn, damn, damn, damn, my love
That ass looks good like in the NMax
No, no, no, no, no, I need your little butt, queen, like the Glock
She tells me: Being with you is like Call Of Duty

I say: Baby, chill, let’s go to Lucky
Because she likes fire, she doesn’t like softies
On the street, I’m a legend, I’m no rookie (never)
Damn, fool (fool)
Wherever I catch you in four, I’ll give you a beating, flow Rocky Balboa

Down there you get wet, Yogurcito playing in the background on YouTube in your room
That past of yours means nothing to me
I like the girls from the hood, especially the ones from Caicedo
Even though you’re a bandit and lie to say: I love you
I define you in finals, like Juanfer Quintero

Ey, I don’t copy any bullshit
They’re buying the bags
Sending all the gold for the bling
We’re out in CX, Gelo, bling
We give it to you in the mouth, just lead for a snack

I just got out of a madhouse, to keep it real with another demon
I know more than one hates me
The forty’s my Mary Jane and has this ninja as her boyfriend
(Sisas nada, fool)

Yeah, talk about it, fai
I’m smoking a bonsai
I don’t have time for you, I’m busy with Nike
You don’t fit with me, none of you are my size

I measure up with whoever steps up to the mic
Since back in the freestyle and cassette days
The first hard reggaeton artist to come out of the ghetto
Repressed envious ones admire me in secret

They don’t know all the power, they only see the sketch
I don’t bend for money, nor for a little ass
Flows are like my clothes, I never repeat them, uh
Eating light, but in the clothes, a lot of grease
I changed this game with Jordan and Wasa Wasa (like Bubbaloo gum)

Speedo shirt, the glasses are Fox
I like big asses, I like them double
Everyone knows me, tell me, who are you?
I don’t step on stage if they don’t give me a thousand bucks

The glasses are Cartier, the jacket’s Moncler
Louis Vuitton on my feet, Benjamin the paper
Legend like the tattoos I have on my skin
We’re in the thousands, we’ve passed a hundred

Five-star hotel, who am I comparing to?
My bandits are praying, the street says: Amen
I’m a P.I.M.P., 50 Cent
We’re in the air, we’ve raised the level
Two G-Wagons in the hood, we got the toys

In Miami, we stroll down the street in a Rolls Royce
The hottest girls like bad boys
And I who grew up in the street, baby, I’m not Prince Royce

Yeah, the competition’s offended
Here we go Nike, we’re throwing out the Adidas
Chains that shine and they’re all mine
I made them believe like I was a Messiah (hahaha, sisas, La K)

In an armored mionca, in TX I arrive at Villa Hermosa
I’m so spicy that I’m gonna have Sara Orrego as my girl
I got a .40 with tits, the fool is jealous
Wants to smell the banana Play-Doh, she’s tired of pink

Pull out the key, babe, get that nose close
A slushie, a little bar and on my arm a CASIO
We don’t buy Nike Shox at El Palacio anymore (not anymore)
Screwing these fools, don’t take photos, give me my space

(Eh, what a tiresome little fool)
An ADV and on my feet the latest TN
A baby charges for it and keeps herself as a webcam
They’re hurt because I got what they don’t have

Lame cars and bags, and the hundreds are left over
She’s a snob, but she likes me to take her to the parties
Hanging out with Tury, El Bendito, and Castro in Manrique
She was from the hood, but to make a ticket, she went to Miami to cash it and moved to Brickell (little snob)

Ah, no, rude
Sisas nada, fool
Haha, the remix
La K, Tury

El Bendito, Ryan Castro
Talk to them, SOG
Doctor
Ey, The Kid from Pedre

You already know (damn, fool)
With El Bendito, Ryan Castro (sisas nada, fool)
Tell me, SOG (noah)
Sjoy

Tell me, Jota
Tell me, Gelo, haha
Damn, fool (damn, damn, damn, damn)