Chupala (Con Kase-O)

Suck it (With Kase-O)

And if you don't like this shit, suck it. If you don't bet on us, suck it. If your scum acts smart, suck it. Double V, Dogma Crew, in your jugular [x3]

So suck it. I can ride on esdrújulas, without any horizon but with a compass, with a mantle of stars as a dome, darkness motivates me like For Copola. Ejaculate, no fable, it's here in your jugular, to be unscrupulous there are no obstacles, Dogma Crew rises in apojeos and fucks your show. Minuscule, only the oracle with its tentacles has maximum control and manages from its cubicle. Addicted to creating scandals, Pablo montanos, in your car and tonight we will win the title of bandits. Damballa guides us through stimuli, change your dirty face because thousands of disciples are following us, put it in your rap article by fascicle, ridiculous, from Seville to Zaragoza many miles but there are links. They are sounds like from a circus that fuck you in a circle, enjoy it, legendary take the microphone and spit it out.

If they settle in the background and feel vertigo at the first beat, the girls are very pretty and they don't do it badly. I'm loaded like the Magnum Fos, damn ability, damn sensitivity and damn burning in the stomach. Aesthetic pedestrian, five gather and form it for you, Kase.O with Dogma, if the killer base is buzzing. Dogmassacre, gods in the shadows get used to it, but not your boyfriend, feels the burden of darkness, the totem doesn't exist, give me a paper and I'll give you back a weapon, and like Tote I do origami with your calm. Then you can calm down or let yourself go into panic, grab onto a nail, a turnip, swim in soap. It's just so it's known, soak us from here to Nepal with cream, the alphabet holds a grudge against me, abused is my motto. Sons of bitches from planet Earth in general, welcome to the verbal massacre, epidemic.

And if you don't like this shit, suck it. If you don't bet on us, suck it. If your scum acts smart, suck it. Double V, Dogma Crew, in your jugular [x2]

Come and see the strongman, half-naked, I grab the microphone like a weapon, you look for a shield. I'm a trapeze artist of the verse on the tightrope, without a net and without a harness you see me, even on one leg, focus on the greatest rapper of your time. It's your turn and it dislocates you, your clothes don't matter, my rap is psychological and spiritual, many come to my ritual, regularly, and it's normal that my verbal contortionism makes your commercial rap disappear like Houdini, it returns. The charismatic group Dogma returns, and Kase.O returns to define (to define), why do you call any acrobat, aspiring Yankee, Hip-Hop, to the strange rhythm that blasphemes against the funky. You can deceive schoolgirls but not our fans, don't go with your bad lyrics, you'll be the bullet man in our tent, my rap is à la carte. To me your muses play the harp, we must differentiate your crap, from the good shit that brought this group of friends together. You're here by plug, in your faith I lefe, Javier spits in your tupe, I already took your subuffer. To not hate you we parody, but Hip-Hop's heart hurts when you sound on the radio, today we are watching your circus these five, and many more kids who work hard from Monday to Sunday. If you can't respect this, we'll take you off the money horse and its weight, Emilio Aragon and his whole family are clowns (yeah), come on, with this I finish, Double V is on the way, Dogma Crew is what came, there's no fucking doubt, suck it. Your mother is the bearded woman...

I don't need to kneel, you're in danger for pointing at me. I should remind you of my ability, we fear to destroy you, I'm unable to bear your faith and lamentable show, your embarrassing garden rap, here something practical is born. Let my virtue shine if I need a temptation, I have little gallant, take my address. You're surprised by all the metrics, structure of this song, I masturbate a tetraplegic old man, you'll see, your future will be better. And this is not a tango, nor a mango juice, nor the Bible, but a dream where I appear in Syria. It's the Block Massacre from the mud, explosion in Libya, fusion of the Ebro Valley and the Guadalquivir where we are designated. I'm eager to start crushing in this war again, everything you try will fail, I slip away like a fish, to compete with us you don't need to wait your turn, self-injury sons of bitches is a shot between temples.

Faggot, shoot yourself and fuck your own brother. I hope your son dies, wait, or rap even with your turnip. You exasperate me, I see it clearly, I hate spring, you know? Your rap is third-rate and I nail it in your fucking face, brown girl wants fire, the Prodigal Son is now playing. And more than a prophet knows and reveals, that I have poison in my veins, I am a problem and the last thing we have left is for nuns to eat pussy wrapped in silk dresses. Dogma pressures you, your relative injects hormones, idiot the hunting season is open, and Zonah wants to fuck you baby. I wish I could see you, touch you, love you, and stick a bomb in your ass, my style is an inert being. I need to castrate you, your tumor amuses me, your family burns with art, no one will be able to find you. I hate having to smell you, I'll celebrate the day of your death, mine is a separate case, I just wish to fuck you.

And if you don't like this shit, suck it. If you don't bet on us, suck it. If your scum acts smart, suck it. Double V, Dogma Crew, in your jugular [x2]