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(na nara nana, nara nanana.... nara nanana nanana nana nanana...)

We hide behind an image, behind appearance,
And we can modify it as it suits us,
It's just about fashion,
Each one with their corresponding label... look.

You have to be a forced macho,
And if you're Spanish (God), you'll have to act American.
Speak with an accent (brother, brother),
With your flat cap, you'll surely win a Nobel.
In your videos, twenty girls are provoking,
What did she ask for? I didn't call them sluts but they're asking for it,
They're screaming for it,
Mamas, daddies,
Same crap, it all comes together in the same group.
I swear I try to respect it, but I can't,
Give me more gasoline to see if with it I set you on fire.
Your lyrics are pure inspiration, jumping over the message,
About how to have sex while giving a massage.
The tracks are bored the same,
Death to auto-tune,
The rhythms are clones and you're the biggest clown on YouTube.
Dance, dance, see if you get dizzy,
With so much rubbing, you get diarrhea.
Your shirts down to your knees,
Short pants down to your ankles,
Your name engraved on the buckle,
Your lyrics don't match your shining rosary,
One of two, either you're stupid or twice as stupid, do you get it?
The girls are in a bad mood, they show their claws
To keep their man while their man looks for another slut.
The one who neglects you is from one drum,
She goes with another and takes another drum,
That's how you make a combo.

~~ [chorus] ~~
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what they think, your sect and its lineage,
You live a passing fashion in homage to the character,
That follows this, it's possible that it doesn't fit.
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what he thinks, your sect and its lineage,
You follow a fashion and a wild aesthetic,
Posh, crazy, reggaeton, chav for me is an outrage.

Your way of speaking and writing is irritating,
You act tough (bah!) take off the tank top.
If you're a skinny chav,
Change it tight and make it look big
Because your underwear is Armani.
The piercing under the lip can't be missing,
Your fifty-tricked out bike that takes you everywhere.
The trendy and cool tattoo is the star on the elbow
And the tacky laces and gold rings you wear.
Gel for your bangs, cap as a comb,
Raise your arms to the sky when you hear techno,
The whole planet fears you,
Known in every nightclub,
Ending up in Ibiza must be your only goal.
Join the gym and kickboxing full...
You don't like dogs but you want a pitbull.
You play Call of Duty, Pro, and Need for Speed
More casual than kids who only have the Wii,
You take speed
Dream of being Brad Pitt.
In the Fight Club
You sell yourself as the one who understands and listens to girls.
And you don't care about cheating on her
And you want a convertible tuned car
To show it off in the middle of winter.
His girls are Amy Winehouse clones
But with the thong pulled up and the pants tighter.
Whenever there's a commotion in a group, you grow
If you go alone, I don't know how you do it, you always disappear.
You're the most popular, the one with the worst grades
Your IQ lowered by the alcohol you vomit.
You play soccer (like everyone), listen to flamenco (like everyone)
You love yourself (how, how the hell do you find a way)

~~ [chorus] ~~
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what they think, your sect and its lineage,
You live a passing fashion in homage to the character,
That follows this, it's possible that it doesn't fit.
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what he thinks, your sect and its lineage,
You follow a fashion and a wild aesthetic,
Posh, crazy, reggaeton, chav for me is an outrage.

Going around like a bum is fashionable and dealing
Going out of your mind, filling yourself with unpaid trips that daddy didn't pay for
Go hippie, don't be posh so they see you're real
You act poor but you don't know what it's like to live badly.
Smoke your flat cap and since you're at it
Say that the only music you listen to is reggae-rap and drum and bass and..
They act respectful (bah!) from irony
When it comes down to it, you'll see that you'll lack company
They wear torn tracksuits, be careful,
That no one finds out you studied at a private school.
Shave half your head or get dreadlocks
You won't say where it comes from but when you go out you always have money.
You change overnight
Smoke that cigarette, drink that rum and now you're a lesbian.
Plant good marijuana
Smoke that joint, have a good time and voilà, you're as good as new..
You from the old school tell me why you don't accept it
If you started with Porta, you'll say it was with CPV
All sellouts, nothing represents
More than going out to the street and listening to 80s rap
Tattoos, piercings all broken
Stop! Leave it for the photo
Complain about every prohibition and let others take care of it.
Lying in the park with calimocho and in fact
You should really go hungry to appreciate your roof.

~~ [chorus] ~~
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what they think, your sect and its lineage,
You live a passing fashion in homage to the character,
That follows this, it's possible that it doesn't fit.
It's appearances, demands, image is worth,
It doesn't matter what he thinks, your sect and its lineage,
You follow a fashion and a wild aesthetic,
Posh, crazy, reggaeton, chav for me is an outrage.