Ocho Líneas

My style is like the touch of a happy finger
Ask the girls from the convent.
I live in ink mazes, I drink rivers of red wine,
I smoke the pollen brought by the wind.
You don't know how to play the instrument
And there's no class where you can learn it
The damn mic has its mystery, keep your drool away from it
I'm going to make you feel inferior, kid... pray

Pray, in my mass, you get dismembered
Start by erasing your smile, what about your sadness?
It disappeared for moments in Libertonia,
Fruit of after-dinner conversation arising from beer cans.

Ideal music for drinking and fucking
Dancing to this will cost you, I tell you.
The mic is my best friend
The enemy is the expo and I toast to its failure, cheers!

One for all and all for one.
Cheers! here and now is the right moment,
Tell them the stars send us signals
And a record that makes us essential.

Hopeless, no tricks, no mystery.
Are they starving? Yes, for love and jealousy for real
They know the name of my group is a great bait.

I don't believe in normal people,
What I say is we are all special
I'm not a genius, it was a joke but I am a magician:
I think of the songs I want to hear and I make them.
Looking at the lake like Narcissus, I deserve a frieze,
Only being a lazy poet saves you.
But who will want to talk about you now?
With our record on the street, your name evaporates and goes away

Master Sho-Hai, dancing embraced with a brick
Of what I'm telling you now, make way
Rebel, Xhelazz, Insulino, Violadores Son
They are tough groups for raw hardcore hip-hop.

It sounds, a doped rhythm, I feel embraced
I can't not want to stop loving my brothers.
Co, your labor, is a masterpiece
A saintly hand at your party, the hand that rocks the turntable

Yes, yes! and in another life it was Vivaldi
I don't chase the rhythm like a Fitipaldi.
I come to make history with a bath of rhymes
In your mental lagoons, so you remember.

We have high-standing rhyme,
The one that comes out effortlessly, the red passion, carmine
I have by my side the lawyer of the soul,
His verses are prayers for men without calm.

I come calmly as a lyricist and his style
Of long phrases and pauses that keep people in suspense
To the stands I throw metaphors that are silk
In the air of those that kill stealthily.

Elegant glove holds a bouquet with thorns:
Microphone in favor of hardcore stamina
And why is a rhyme so important to me?
Because rap was the first way to make a living

I endure a compliment and a bad experience
I dream after a lightning bolt I recognize if I mess up
I do and undo to not be lazy
Just the threat of grabbing the mic causes havoc
That's why the world points at me with the finger
Because the audience came with the desire and I came with the ability
The game is eternal of giving and receiving pleasure
Today is a day to do it again

Not new to this, your rap is clear
At most I put a chelson in the living room
With my lines don't be surprised if you strain with your rap
You'll end up stoned like a fool at Viña.

In his concert a sign asks for silence
In your hand a CD, mine is priceless
In my tomb a