Monopolio 3 (Respuesta de Dios)

God, help the genre, that it can be cleaned
Damage to Rubirosa, take Liro Shaq

Ah
Dear son, you have disappointed me
Blaspheme against me to seek attention and be accepted
I who have given you everything
The family and talent, which today you have used against me
You have rebelled against my word
My timing is perfect, it's just that you are desperate
I sent Arcángel to you to make him your ally
You were going to Flow Factory, now you're not going anywhere
Because you have blamed me for the evil of an entire genre
Just because I didn't put it first
You risked your eternity for a passing sound
Maybe you'd be happy if I had made you a dembow artist, but
I made you to be my best warrior
That's why I made you walk the worst paths
And today you insult my name seeking a rapper's throne
And you earned one in hell next to Canserbero
"God, help the genre, that it can be cleaned"
Why don't you clean your soul? I've been trying to get in for a while
I didn't establish any musical order
I just chose to give sound, you choose who to listen to
My son, you are very wrong, you have a confused people
I take care of giving life, not sound
If it were up to me, my people would be blessed
Because the sales records would be from Aposento Alto and Redimi2
And not Bad Bunny
My son, if it were up to me, Almighty would be the most popular from Sony
Man would wake up in my word, not drinking Johnnie
And women would use their brains more and less bikini
As you can see, I am also hurt
By the grotesque results of free will
I gave Juan Luis Guerra, Tercer Cielo, and Anthony Río
You listen to the one who says that the fools are mine
I am not to blame for those who don't make it
Much less for those who have become global
It amuses me when they thank me
For filling concerts and their international awards
Why should I reward them if their content is
That which corrupts my sheep with carnal desires?
But what can be expected from people
Who fill their temporary bodies with permanent tattoos?
They all sound the same; please, God
Allow me to stick around to look for rice
I didn't make El Alfa to be a singer, listen to his voice
He was attracted by the shine of his Big Boss clothes
And there are so many, I get bored counting them
They see the luxuries of others and demand the same
Son, I am not the one who gives chains to the artists
On the contrary, I seek to free them from chains
You asked me about MC Pablo and I didn't say anything
LR, Tivi Gunz; nothing has happened
Well, look, you are asking for acceptance
In a nation where not even my word is accepted
There are good careers stuck, you are right
But I have not been the opposition
Talent does not progress when bad decisions are made
Or like Vakeró: When he has good talent, but a bad heart

Forgive
Forgive
Forgive
God, God

Son, who gave you the authority to decide
Who should live, who should die?
I know Kiko has no talent, there's no need to discuss
But he helps his family and gives thanks before sleeping
You thanked me for Alofoke and that's a lie
You did it out of fear that he wouldn't help you rise
You know well that I have heard you say
That he is the source of life for the clowns you sent me to destroy
Like El Cherry, you are bothered by his light shining
I have a wall painted white at the top
Where apparently I will not write your name
Because only those who fear God do it there
You are afraid of man
And it's not surprising that you are an ogre
But the desire for fame has made your heart darker
Every day you look more like Cain
You want to kill your brothers because you are envious of their achievements
Coward, you mention Mozart to save him
But I know it was for his fans to watch you
Tell the truth so that courage remains
Deep down, you have always thought that his music is worthless
Son, then what you ask for is a fallacy
And my heart is deaf to foolish requests
That ask me to fix the world and belittle the message
Think about it, you go more to the club than to church
And you come to say that I haven't been there
And that if I have, I should return Monkey Black and also Ciru
You only think of yourself, I haven't heard you ask
For the innocent dead to be returned because of this virus
You think I don't see you because you don't see me
You go through the stress and annoyance that I deal with daily
Ensuring that there is subsidy in your country
And trying to prevent more deaths from femicide
Son, I heard your cry; it's not that I don't care
It's that there are bigger things calling for my contribution
When you asked not to show Liro Shaq his passport
I was avoiding war between America and North Korea
See the news report tomorrow
White supremacy attacks the African American race
Many people dying, even Christian families
Son, there are more important things than your urban devotion
Besides, I don't use my divine power for vain things
Nor do I determine any ending
I did enough by turning my son's blood into wine
Today I limit myself to giving you the pencil, you write your destiny
And yet I walk wherever you are
I still believe in children who no longer believe in me
Because they are living in a world where love no longer exists
And yet, it's easier to say amen than to say amen

Forgive
Forgive
Forgive
God, God, oh