eso está muy jazzudo
Negro it's cold outside
No tengo fuma
Y no quiero salir
A comprar más
El sonido del aguacero
Me va a socavar
Mis más profundas
Ambiciones hasta
No dar más
Llega dani y le pregunto
Que si lo va a armar
Me dice que con este clima
Cómo no fumar?
Del sonido sale un jazz y
Cómo no cantar
Mis raps, un manantial
Mi cuarto, el hontanar
De ontario hasta myanmar
De mi armario a tu hogar
Saco temas sin saber
A dónde van a llegar
Hijxs de asfalto, la lluvia
Y el cañaveral
Cuando de rapear se trata
Siempre hay ganas de más
Suena bouncy como
El pase de curry en el allstar
Vida jazzy, quiero escuchar
Coltrane en un old car
Y es poca la vida que te
Cuento en mis notas
Pero es mi mundo real
No son mentiras piadosas
So I don't have to act
Nunca ganaré un Oscar
Me tiene sin cuidado
Para mí es poca cosa
Quiero poder parar
Y llegar vivo a mi comeback
Dejar al rap en alto
Antes de entrar a la fosa
Miro el tema de aquel
Que sigue el mismo cartel
La misma mierda de ayer
Digo "shit, here we go again"
Rappers de anaquel
Que la industria es su cincel
Compiten contra mi shit
Y se los come el vórtice
Please never come back
Que ahora ya estoy como quise
De mi eterna tranquilidad
El beat será mi cómplice
Siempre escribo en el celular
Pa' no gastar mis lápices
Porque si de escribir se trata
No tenés ni un ápice
Word up, kid
Mis temas no son palos
Son bates de baseball
El babe ruth del nuevo cuento
Un tipo necio
Negro, shut up que
Casi comienza la sesión
Dejá que suene el piano
Y luego hablamos de eso
Come on
Lemme hear again my
Jazzy shit
That's Very Jazzy
Negro it's cold outside
I don't have smoke
And I don't want to go out
To buy more
The sound of the downpour
Is going to undermine me
My deepest
Ambitions until
I can't take it anymore
Dani arrives and I ask him
If he's going to roll one
He tells me that with this weather
How can you not smoke?
From the sound comes jazz and
How can you not sing
My raps, a spring
My room, the source
From Ontario to Myanmar
From my closet to your home
I bring up topics without knowing
Where they will end up
Children of the asphalt, the rain
And the sugar cane field
When it comes to rapping
There's always a desire for more
It sounds bouncy like
Curry's pass in the all-star game
Jazzy life, I want to hear
Coltrane in an old car
And the life I tell you about
In my notes is little
But it's my real world
Not pious lies
So I don't have to act
I'll never win an Oscar
I don't care
It's nothing to me
I want to be able to stop
And make it alive to my comeback
To leave rap high
Before entering the grave
I look at the issue of those
Who follow the same script
The same shit as yesterday
I say "shit, here we go again"
Shelf rappers
Whose industry is their chisel
They compete against my shit
And the vortex swallows them
Please never come back
Because now I'm as I wanted
From my eternal tranquility
The beat will be my accomplice
I always write on my phone
To not waste my pencils
Because when it comes to writing
You don't have a bit
Word up, kid
My topics are not sticks
They are baseball bats
The Babe Ruth of the new story
A foolish guy
Negro, shut up because
The session is about to start
Let the piano play
And then we'll talk about that
Come on
Let me hear my
Jazzy shit again