Have It Out
I have it out, I have it out, with myself,
With myself, I have it out.
It's gonna get ugly.
It's gonna get messy.
It's gonna be world war iii of myself.
I have it in for this guy who's been there for me
A fuckin' gem who takes me back in like a friend.
But what is he good for, if he just stay spectator of war?
I have it in for, have it in for, have it in for
I'm gonna start with his liver,
And throw it into a river of tar.
I'm gonna move to his fingers,
Can't play guitar,
Can't play the rockstar.
He'll have but nothing to talk about,
He won't be able to flap his mouth.
Cuz I'mma cut out his tongue
Can't kiss the girls.
Can't fuck the young ones.
I have it out, I have it out, with myself
With myself, I have it out.
And what about you?
Yeah, and what about you?
What about you?
Arreglar Cuentas
Tengo un problema, tengo un problema, conmigo mismo,
Conmigo mismo, tengo un problema.
Va a ponerse feo.
Va a ensuciarse.
Va a ser la tercera guerra mundial de mí mismo.
Tengo bronca con este tipo que ha estado ahí para mí
Un maldito genio que me recibe de vuelta como un amigo.
Pero ¿para qué sirve, si solo se queda como espectador de la guerra?
Tengo bronca, tengo bronca, tengo bronca.
Voy a empezar con su hígado,
Y lanzarlo a un río de alquitrán.
Voy a pasar a sus dedos,
No podrá tocar la guitarra,
No podrá ser la estrella de rock.
No tendrá nada de qué hablar,
No podrá abrir la boca.
Porque le voy a cortar la lengua.
No podrá besar a las chicas.
No podrá acostarse con las jóvenes.
Tengo un problema, tengo un problema, conmigo mismo
Conmigo mismo, tengo un problema.
¿Y tú qué?
Sí, ¿y tú qué?
¿Y tú qué?