I know my rhymes can sometimes be upsetting even I feel scared when my neurons run my answers can be so aggressive that even lyrics flee because they’re afraid that I write them. in one verse I kill you, fracture you, injure you I don’t carry rifles to kill you, the [music] track is enough
I turn lyrics into ideas like an illusionist and in the next, I resurrect you when I mention you that’s part of my art for everyone to know that these rhymes are for you without mentioning you and I don’t do that to avoid brushing up next to you I do it so not to make you famous in countries where nobody knows you. After watching how wars and guerrillas move do you think I’ll be afraid of your gang? Shoot whenever you want, little gangsta rapper here the winner is not the most gangsta, but the most witty. In your head you’re a narco searched by the police and your guns are like unicorns, a fantasy there’s no problem with you having imaginary enemies but there’s one (problem) when little kids think you’re a hitman. You have not lived three fucking difficulties in your life you did not lack schooling, you didn’t lack food if the people of Congo have had your chances they would have graduated from the best universities. If I take you on a trip to Central Africa after witnessing war, you would have come out singing Christian lyrics Back there your clothes, your baseball cap and your gangsta chain would have melt with the sun. Or, I take you to Syria, so you can feel the bombings and watch the little kids left one-armed What will you do when your son is nabbed at the disco and with no subtlety his head is blown out with an AKA? Or if your brother’s face is wiped out violently? Or if your momma is killed with a short (firearm) and a Forty (.40) Bastard, are you dumb?! Rapping about how to blow out brains in a country where you get killed for stealing a dollar bill! I’m not a saint when rapping, much less a gentleman at some point in my rhymes, I strangled ten sailors but in that case, inciting disorder means something different because when tyranny is law, revolution is order. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you.
Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Do you want to dish it out to me? Here I leave you with a couple of riddles: I’m afraid of cockroaches and lizards for years, the fucking radio in Puerto Rico hasn’t played me (my music) I have released five albums already and I’m still not rich; some call me a communist, a hundred percent demagog the far-rightists hate me, and the ultra-leftists too my sexual performance is the lowest after mocking bald guys , I grew bold myself inside me I repented, but did not admit it until today
I called the governor a son of a bitch, and although he deserved it before understanding the inequalities of people I bought a used Maserati, that now doesn’t’ work; my credit (financial) is fucked up, they don’t even sell me a coffee that’s why I prefer to go on foot instead
of having another monthly payment to make. Like boxers, I’m bad with managing my money I invest everything in my career, because “art comes first”. I am the slowest of my family, I’m not brilliant I fight for education but was never a good student I suffer fear of flying, I like politics criticism hurts me, although I say I don’t care about it. My best friend was killed in a police station I have a lot to write and just a bit of paper my honesty is of transparent color you can look inside me, just by looking straight at me. you can try to dish it out to me, just try but to keep being honest, I’m the best at this! Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you.
Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you. Inside, inside, deep inside, I left it inside you.