CUATRO:DIEZ (feat. Kimmø y PUGSPUGSPUGS)

Four: Ten to 10 of a 20, 10 of a joint, 10 of a stick
A blank slate in the white city
In the Yucatan Peninsula waiting for the Sun to rise
Thinking about so much fake and scumbag rap
Thinking about how the larvae haven't eaten them
Thinking about who made his beard
Rather begging for answers from Ixchel, as to why his gang barks with such confidence
I'm not a don yet, I'm still a nobody
According to whom? According to my wallet and Kracles
I look at my gift disconnecting my cables
Burying Luis and making Dupe sing

I don't lose my temper, I don't think, I write
I'm watching and measuring
I live gone and I look at your crew
Fuck what do I tell you, there are no adjectives, if a noun, appetizers
Rappers who only have the vices of rap
They want a fair and their rhymes are shit
They don't even take off a pair of socks
They don't even get stuck in the artery - hysteria!
I don't know who they think they are, but me? History!
Fed up with copies and their photocopies
Pure free fame rappers
They only dream of bizarrap, they are bizarre
No message, no sweat, just massages
They are paying a guide in the hustle
I'm looking for checks, not signing paper
I just record and burn rappers, you know?
My shit is good, no matter the hater
You create it, your producer or your fucking asshole
Bitch, dirty, infertile, shit and disgusting fuckin label (damn)

I have a forty in case you get too rough and your crew has been in mourning for forty weeks
Little rapper, Mr. Astuto, tell me where my money is, because here we don't speak twice in a sensible way
Or if you want we go to war and we get to the door of the hotel
With a chainsaw and we play who is the biggest bitch
We write with a pen stained with blood
So call on whoever you want to pray to (amen)
The conversation will not be pleasant when they ask who
I nailed the rhyme of the 4th just now
And I'm smoking a kush from a Taliban friend
I just cough and cough, I left idleness and focused on doing business, partner
I came for the big prize
They tell me that flow you carry lit, I can't stand it
They see the fruits of my branches and ask where I cut them
Children who misbehave are almost better if I report them

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

KIMMO
Yung Dupe
In the game of hell see
Water, water, water, hey