Malpensante

Mischievous

In the land of the jarana
The candle is lit for the one who puts out the bullet, ties that are fastened
Triggers that are pulled, it's not enough to have wood
If it relaxes, they cut it down, slaves of the cane
That distill police and models parade
After a joint, I sit in Burkina, it's cannabis and R
P in a boxing bag that serves as a snack
Living in a kitchen
Storing styles in silos that you don't even distill
Something intangible takes care of me and I don't ask What is it?
I just open the door, hoping it continues
And it's better to close to people with minds
Swine I write your hills behind the scenes
That golden crown can turn into thorns
Not because they say I'm in vogue, I'm a beam, the letters become literal
Like when we find mushrooms in cow dung and in the end what
We are plants without pots stuck to the
Planet and with the mind in the shit
Lives sacrificed for chimera making songs makes us more skulls
But it hits me to see them or rather visually
Hear them in the bad and good times, throwing splinters

For my part, it's the faith of the mischievous to not become
A promise for the coming year, that's why I pump boom bap in my blood
Smoking marijuana, God save you
For my part, it's the faith of the mischievous to not become a promise
For the coming year, the walls may hold up even though everything seems liquid unstable

There are no motherfucking punches for the fake
Life is desired since death is rest
Miserable piece of the scrap deserving more than one slap but I would never forget
An 18th of March blowing the
Grass that I give, calming stress like Hanzo
In the forehead; I fix the bundle as I please
I don't choose those who walk away and if they're already far I don't split those I leave them
Since I don't diminish in their tongues interests
Of double petticoats, of your pockets waters

For chichiguas they bite the hand chihuahuas, better from afar
This turn is not about having mares or grass
Nor the notebook full of letters in the end it's what
Is worked with many or none I already had these sores, you arrive late
For my part, it's the faith of the mischievous to not become
A promise for the coming year, that's why I pump boom bap in my blood
Smoking marijuana, God save you

For my part, it's the faith of the mischievous to not become a promise
For the coming year, the walls may hold up even though everything seems
Liquid unstable
You have to get up early but as Daniel said
Lazy soul decides not to have time for trivialities!