Siempre Fluyo

Why live from January to December if death is waiting for you?
It’s lame to get to the party in a cab.
At concerts, pour me a liter,
because if madness hurt, I wouldn’t rap, I’d just scream.
I really hate those liter cups.
When you drink, they block your view, you can’t see the girls at the bar.
I walk alone, not in high demand.
You know the beat, I know your style.
Unhappy with life.
I wonder why libraries don’t have a porn section?
I get kicked out of jobs for being obsessed,
because I think a worker is worth way more than their paycheck.
The obsession with money brings madness.
I always dreamed of having a harem...
It’s pure fantasy for this athlete with a guaranteed medal
in a sport that can be done in the dark.
I’m sorry, I’m not a killer or a gangster.
Here, we kill time by shooting samples.
Lyrics from a slacker,
there are two ways to rap: one is bad and the other is how I do it.
Humble MC, there’s something I can’t resist,
and that’s my disgust for those who brag about not bragging.
Peace in rap is imitated. I swear,
like a bullet, my flow moves at a thousand meters per second.
They cut me off from a dream come true.
See, after one album, I was left without a DJ.
But I don’t despair, I disagree, I abstain from your clergy,
I don’t want one less with a dumbass criterion of being so sincere.
Honestly, you’re a joke.
Your flows suck and you’re in the media because you suck up.
I’m a paranoid Pyrenean hiding under your immature impotence.
Give me Jack Daniels, 10 commandments repress us and 7 sins to have a good time.
I want to learn in life, there are things that go and don’t come back.
The word spoken, the opportunity lost.
Wherever I go, I feel like a foreigner and empty.
My rhymes are rock islands in your sea of silence.
Immaculate style, my life is a drunken mess.
The same old routine:
hangovers from a day of drinking for 2 hours and peeing for 3 minutes.

[Chorus] (x2)
Your engine doesn’t sound right, I always flow, I spit.
Just rap, man. I just drop truths like punches.

Hey, I never get used to having cash in hand,
and if I do, I start wondering if I stole it.
You polish me? And I’m pulling out beats from my stash.
I’m like the devil: I don’t fight, I seduce.
Knowing the tricks of others bores me,
that’s why I hit the courts and time flies.
Rumba plays loops, you hit play on your deck.
If you want, I’ll touch your tits like a couple of speakers.
They’ll leave a holocaust of b-boys with rhyme bombs. (I throw bombs like Hiroshima).
Sadness spreads in the soul, the heart in the body, eh.
I want to be free and not a sicko
who’s emotionally stuck on a memory.
The freshest flows you hear come from me.
If you call yourself an MC, don’t stress.
If you’re good, the moment will come.
Manage your ego as discreetly as you can.
It cost me a lot to start from the bottom up,
and there are still those who look down on me.
You know my lyrics are different.
Something that lasts only a minute will make you think for a lifetime.
I ask for forgiveness for being who I am.
I’m a deaf guy looking for his inner melody.
I always did my own thing.
Some brag about having LPs and I respond: LP stands for lick my balls.
Lacking affection, I float in lakes of bitterness,
in which I sail with my boat without a sail.
Rap and drinking give me plenty to talk about.
In this game, you know I’m insatiable, they can’t stop me.

[Chorus] (x2)
Your engine doesn’t sound right, I always flow, I spit.
Just rap, man. I just drop truths like punches.