Pela Musica Parte 2

Desolate scenery of ancient organic orchards
That gave way to fertilizers and insecticides
Where appearance prevails over taste
And patience gives in to the pressure of immediacy
They still haven't realized that all the fruit of money
Eventually falls from the tree
Rotten, rotten

Yeah, now it's just prostitutes in those record labels
Was it worth going to the gym from autumn to spring?
You have enough body now to sign with the label
Look at the contract, 90 for them, 10% for you
Even pimps from the Intendente would give you 50%
Now you're a full-fledged artist full of style and self-esteem
Morally up but you smell like vaseline
Another formatted one sniffing around for platinum
You love music but you have to prostitute it
Don't make deep sounds because people fall asleep
Remember: The Portuguese dance better than they think
That's why radios only play love and party songs
And that's why we have more nightclubs than libraries
That's why playlisted artists are just puppets
There are many people selling out, that's why this market is just shit
Independent music is never heard on radio stations
(There's no space)
The catalog of these majors is too big
You're on the cover of the magazine not because your music is innovative
It's just because your label has more money than the others
Enjoy that fame and all the idolization
Because in 16 minutes I'll catch you here in the underground
You go from glory to failure kicked around
History won't even keep a footnote for you
If you live on your knees, even Che's shirt won't help you
I'm horizontal but I'll die standing

We give music everything it gives us
When the money runs out, we're still here
I don't buy into what the radio programs
Wake up, tune out, and change the tune

We give music everything it gives us
When the money runs out, we're still here
Your idols, man, are just puppets
They sing for checks, do it without soul and talent
You say you haven't evolved? (Yeah, you're rotten)
I haven't learned anything from the business and still record snippets
And I don't know if the concepts are the same as before
But if what I see out there is music, I'll leave everything and go away
Playlists don't reflect taste, but the culture of the people
And the industry exploits ignorance, that's why it smells musty
Chico Zé wants to consume, no explanation for the empty pocket
And in the videos, hairy chests and gold chains
Feed the dream, man, and fly high
But the country has 10 million, you're being foolish
Don't be Cinderella in this charlatan's tale
You won't reach the stars on your magic beanstalk
You'll never, never, never be rich, accept it
You may even live off this but not without selling out
They'll lick it first, but they'll turn you inside out
And the dilemma you face is setting your price (geisha!)

We give music everything it gives us
When the money runs out, we're still here
I don't buy into what the radio programs
Wake up, tune out, and change the tune

We give music everything it gives us
When the money runs out, we're still here
Your idols, man, are just puppets
They sing for checks, do it without soul and talent
I do it like a metaphor, boy
For me labels are like ladies, man
You have those ladies like
Yeah, they're all showy
That silicone lady
You'll meet her, boy
She has nothing in her head, boy
She doesn't know how to treat you like you want to be treated, man
Then you have those ladies
My favorites, boy
Low pro., low profile
Those ladies who are just in the corner, you know
You go to them, meet them
Have a coffee
Enjoy them, boy
And then you have those sour ones, boy
Sour, nobody wants them, boy
They even come with a cool neckline
Nope, nobody wants them
But let me tell you something, man
To talk about them
The thing is, if you get to know them, man
So if they invite you
Accept the invitation
Go have a coffee with the labels
Go have dinner with the labels
Go out at night with the labels
Give kisses to the labels
Grope the labels

And fuck the labels, but notice
Don't commit, greet them in the face
Because they're jealous and you can't do anything
When they give you the contract, read it
I read it like Lara
I came to call the music
And be close to Sara
In the Sahara desert
They give you sand, do you want to climb?
They give you a ride
But I won't, at a dwarf's pace
To me they're multi-banks without a chip
Because I don't swipe their card
They'll screw me if I touch them
In a dirty deal, I'll buy soap
And I'll give them an autograph with the condition
That the child is mine, I'm a present father
And I'm not in prison
A decent share in the commission
It's not greed, it's justice and decency is my vision
This is my demand, this is my mission
In my own way, to have a career and have longevity
Boy bands ask please
Just one more summer!?
Just one more chorus!?
Just one more ad for the installment!?
And the question, next year will be, where are they?
Did they make history, or was it in vain?
It's because people have short memories
Like the penis in Japan
Go to the exhibition's plan B
Be real for you, in a reality show on TV
And when the participation ends
Come with your presentation single
It's not the same, is it!
Nowadays there's no one listening to you, is there!
You saw you were fast-food, and digestion is over
You aspired to see your name on a million-dollar check
I prefer to be a street name, school, or pavilion
At first I thought labels were the bogeyman
Reconciliation at Edel, Peter gave me the card
And if the card still exists, it's for some reason
Many get filtered, when I come to a conclusion
There's no respect, it's prejudice in acceptance
They give us control and Creole rap still has no edition
In a major even if it's just for distribution
Boy, I don't even listen to the radio, it's just pollution
I give music what it gives me
When the money runs out, I'm still here!
Creating in 7th grade!
I don't agree with Paredes, in his most beautiful phrase
I love music too much not to live off it
I don't want to work in an office, that's fake

I give music everything it gives me
Radio doesn't play my sound, but I'm still here
I gathered the purest guys in my habitat
We will be the change that the future will bring
I give music everything it gives me

I give music everything it gives me
Radio doesn't play my sound, but I'm still here
I gathered the purest guys in my habitat
We will be the change that the future will bring
I give music everything it gives me

I want to be like Sérgio
I want to be like, like Zeca
I want 8 albums before I go bald
Go do the scenes
Put new scenes on the table, man
Don't bring the pudding
The pudding is already on the table, man
Bring rice pudding, boy
Missing rice pudding
Yeah, and get inspired by Keidje Lima
But don't rhyme like Keidje rhymes
Do new things, man
Labels bet on new things
That's what we want

Keep that in mind, yeah?
We are the team of the 3rd division
Whose only motivation is
The love of the game
That is unconditionally delivered
With soul and body
Humble but never submissive
You can bring your team
Bring your luxury team
With your best players
Your best players who next year
Will be on the bench
You can harass us
You can even buy some of our squad
But never, you never, never
Will have all of us as a family