Verdades Ficticias
Ya me so' embelado que me tomé un café y 'toy medio hyper
Suavecito, ¿ok?
Viso rivera, je
Apaguen la luz, que vengo alumbrarlos como de costumbre
Me incumbe salir de mi cumbre para que este mundo no se me derrumbe
La gente se aturbe, no se me angustien, no se me turben
El género a pie, estos taxis son lentos, tranquilo' que aquí llego yubel, ah
Wiso estoy harto de que estos raperos digan que en la calle redactan
Dicen que matan, que to' tienen ak y con esas falacias se jactan (fake)
La calle se atrae lo que ellos redactan y un ochenta por ciento que falta
El sonido en la calle es el llanto de madres cuando algún hijo le matan
Cuando a un niño le llevan el padre y nunca se lo dan de alta
A familias gigantes, la droga aplasta y de grande' pasan a compacta
Que lleguen mis cartas diciendo que deben al pai y en alcohol to' lo gasta
Llega a su casa a las tantas, y a su esposa borracho maltrata
No me hable' de calle, si a leguas se nota que tu pupila sigue intacta
De lo que redactan, no tiene' el acta, si es falso después me contacta (wooh)
Tu letra no es autodidacta, por eso pa' mí es putrefacta
Dicen: La calle me quema y viven más fríos que Alaska
Algún día verán que no eres calle na' y la gente estará estupefacta (what?)
Siente' un poco 'e calor y se van de rodillas y de to' se retractan
Y la fácil, la linda, mencionen algo positivo que brindan
Cualquiera promueve violencia cuando los carros que poseen los blindan
Mentira, mentira, mentira, mentira, mentira, mentira y mentira
Eso es lo que hacen, repiten mentira' en todos los temas que tiran
Tony Montana son todo' y todo' buscando la misma elvira
Promueven el sexo y después se preguntan si algún día lo' muerde el sida
Promueven la muerte y después hacen temas si un pana se queda sin vida
Promueven los cuernos y después se cuestionan si un pana viene y se les vira
Es mejor que tus palabras midas, porque to' lo que digas y tiras
Tarde o temprano, por más que lo esquivas, algún día te vira
Otra esposa más que queda viuda, su cuenta de chavos e' aguda
Los nenes sin papi, y el papi nuevo no ayuda (ah)
Les llena de marcas el cuerpo y la mente y su inocencia desnuda
Perdón si te ofendo, pero es que las verdades las digo crudas (yes, sir)
Es que no puede ser que esto siga igual
El sello le cae igual a cada cual (wooh)
Si quieres ser sal, del salero sal
Pa'l mundo cambiar hay que confrontar
Verdades ficticias, tú quieres ver calle, mira las noticias
La biblia lo avisa, date deprisa porque es la primicia (yeh)
Tu trap de mentira no ayuda a la muerte y deuda al pueblo asfixia
Le tiran a los gobernantes diciendo que mienten y ellos son iguales, no sé por qué enjuician (wooh)
Venden su letra ficticia, la fama y los chavos envician (ah)
Sienten orgullo si notan que quien les tiró algún día demuestra codicia
Y los medios, eso es lo que auspician, profetas de la inmundicia
En la vocaliza se inicia, el fin el reloj acaricia, Cristo viene, qué delicia (amén)
Cristianos solo con milicia, porque estar sin Cristo no me beneficia (ah)
Panda, panda, a los charros le dan propaganda
Los cementerios se agrandan y poco' los corazones que se ablandan (yeh)
Verdad o mentira, no ambas, tus verdades me caminan zamba
Aquí somos o blancos o negros, no somos doble tono como panda (yeh)
Síganla corriendo, papi (jaja)
Alright
Escuché a alguien diciendo que si el trap es un movimiento
Pa' hablar de la calle, lo que pasa en la calle y que la calle es matar, y todo eso
Papi, eso es una calle ficticia
Son verdades a media', ¿entiende'?
No hables de conocimiento si, en realidad, estás buscando excusas
Pa' tirar la basura que todo' están tirando
Todo' dicen que tiran música distinta
Otro punto de vista de la calle y todo' tiran lo mismo
¿Tú quiere' hablar calle verídica, papi?
No es solamente matar, no es solamente contarme
De con cuántas, mujere' has estado, o que tú estás fumando
Háblame de esas madres que sufren, to' lo' día'
Porque el hijo no ha vuelto
Háblame de esos padres que se van y dejan a los nenes solo'
Hábame de los jóvene' como nosotro' que se han vuelto loco'
Que se quedan pedago' en los viajes por la droga
O que los han matado a temprana edad, sin tan siquiera vivir, brother
Esa es la calle real, lo que está sufriendo Puerto Rico y el mundo entero
Hablemos cosas con sentido, ¿está bien?
Pero na', wizo, aquí seguimo'
Cuestión de innovar lo que ya está crea'o
They don't want me to make real trap, bro'
So, guess what? Imma do the greatest trap Eva'
The realest trap, Eva'
Emc, baby, I feel like a little bit bilingual, bro'
Gabriel rodriguez
El gozo del señor es mi fortaleza, papi
But you know we're getting tired of this
You're rapping the same weak game, bro'
It's all the same, no difference
Fictitious Truths
I'm all dressed up 'cause I had a coffee and I'm kinda hyper
Smooth, okay?
Viso rivera, hey
Turn off the lights, I'm here to enlighten you as usual
It's my concern to come down from my peak so this world doesn't collapse on me
People get confused, don't get distressed, don't get troubled
Walking genre, these taxis are slow, calm down 'cause I'm here, yubel, ah
I'm sick of these rappers saying they write on the streets
They say they kill, that they all have guns and boast with those lies (fake)
The streets attract what they write and there's an eighty percent missing
The sound on the streets is the crying of mothers when a son is killed
When a child's father is taken away and never comes back
Giant families, drugs crush them and they go from big to compact
My letters arrive saying they owe to the boss and spend it all on alcohol
He gets home late, and mistreats his wife drunk
Don't talk to me about the streets, it's clear from miles away that your pupil is still intact
Of what they write, you don't have the record, if it's fake then contact me (wooh)
Your lyrics aren't self-taught, that's why they're putrid to me
They say: The streets burn me and they live colder than Alaska
One day they'll see you're not street at all and people will be amazed (what?)
Feel a little heat and they go on their knees and retract everything
And the easy, the pretty, mention something positive they provide
Anyone promotes violence when they shield the cars they own
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie and lie
That's what they do, repeat lies in all the topics they throw
Tony Montana are all and all looking for the same elvira
They promote sex and then wonder if they'll get AIDS someday
They promote death and then make songs if a buddy loses his life
They promote cheating and then question if a buddy comes and turns on them
It's better to watch your words, 'cause everything you say and throw
Sooner or later, no matter how much you dodge it, someday it'll turn on you
Another wife left widowed, her money account is sharp
Kids without daddy, and the new daddy doesn't help (ah)
They fill their bodies and minds with marks and their innocence naked
Sorry if I offend you, but I speak the truths raw (yes, sir)
It can't be that this continues the same way
The stamp falls the same on everyone (wooh)
If you want to be salt, come out of the salt shaker
To change the world you have to confront
Fictitious truths, you want to see the streets, watch the news
The Bible warns about it, hurry up 'cause it's the scoop (yeh)
Your fake trap doesn't help death and suffocates the people with debt
They throw at the rulers saying they lie and they're just like them, I don't know why they judge (wooh)
They sell their fake lyrics, fame and money addict them (ah)
They feel proud if they notice that whoever dissed them one day shows greed
And the media, that's what they sponsor, prophets of filth
In the vocalization it begins, the end the clock caresses, Christ is coming, what a delight (amen)
Christians only with militia, 'cause being without Christ doesn't benefit me (ah)
Panda, panda, they give propaganda to the cowboys
The cemeteries grow and few are the hearts that soften (yeh)
Truth or lie, not both, your truths walk me in a zigzag
Here we're either white or black, we're not two-tone like a panda (yeh)
Keep running, daddy (haha)
Alright
I heard someone saying that if trap is a movement
To talk about the streets, what happens on the streets and that the streets are about killing, and all that
Daddy, that's a fictitious street
They're half-truths, you understand?
Don't talk about knowledge if you're actually looking for excuses
To throw away all that everyone's throwing
Everyone says they throw different music
Another point of view of the streets and they all throw the same thing
You want to talk about real streets, daddy?
It's not just about killing, it's not just about telling me
How many women you've been with, or what you're smoking
Tell me about those mothers who suffer every day
Because their child hasn't come back
Tell me about those fathers who leave and leave the kids alone
Tell me about young people like us who have gone crazy
Who get high on trips because of drugs
Or who have been killed at a young age, without even living, brother
That's the real street, what Puerto Rico and the whole world are suffering
Let's talk about things that make sense, okay?
But no, wizo, we're still here
A matter of innovating what's already been created
They don't want me to make real trap, bro'
So, guess what? Imma do the greatest trap Eva'
The realest trap, Eva'
Emc, baby, I feel like a little bit bilingual, bro'
Gabriel rodriguez
The joy of the Lord is my strength, daddy
But you know we're getting tired of this
You're rapping the same weak game, bro'
It's all the same, no difference
Escrita por: Gabrielrodriguezemc