Solo Contra Todos Ustedes
Yeah, man!
Boricuas NY!
What's up!
No respect!
Saben mi nombre ya!
Come On!
Empiezo la accion
Con el uno dos, uno dos
Hey yo, quien tiene mas flow que yo?
Master Joe esta muerto en vida con los bimbasos
No sufras mas, pana mio, y pegate un balazo
Dile al negro que te haga el favor y que en paz descanse
Pa mandarte una corona en el nombre de David Sanchez
Y la otra corona es de mi gente de corazon
Que vale aquel para el mayor alicaton
Come on!
Tienen el piso olimpico
O los ataques de nerviosismo
Los francotiradores se apuntan ellos mismos
Mueran por su egoismo, mamabichos
Y por el poder que contrae en mi ritmo
Yo soy el mismo
Que vista y calza
Tempo
El que fuma pasto
En Boricuas NY
Causando impacto
En coneccion
Cruzando el charco de Nueva York
A Puerto Rico
Poniendo a mamar a Polaco y Lito
Yo
Solo contra todos ustedes
Tempo
En boricuas en New York
What's up
Cuantos me van a tirar
Uh-huh!
Tiren y demen promocion
Yo
Solo contra todos ustedes
Tempo
En boricuas en New York
What's up
Cuantos mas van a tirar
Uh-huh!
Tiren y demen promocion
El escuadron no existe
Ya murieron por payasos
Cojieron cantasos
Y quieren probar balazos
Ya nadie les hace caso
La gente se rie de ustedes
Ya nadie los quiere
No tienen fanaticos ni mujeres
Pobre Master
Le quedan pocos dias de vida
Se ve flaco y por desgaste fisico
Ya ni respira
Pobre Bruno
Se va a quedar solo en la guerra
Uno a uno
Tu y yo
Y te voy hacer comer tierra
Mono, toma
Aqui tienes tu guineo de bono
No tienes lirica
Nunca podras sentarte en mi trono
El culo te como a ti
Y a los que me tiren
A los que apoyen al escuadron
Y a los que mal me miren
Tanto hablar de francotiradores
Apuntaron mal
Estaban asustaos
Que clase de jodedores
No tienen cojones
No hablen de valores
Si no hay corazones
Mamones son mi genero
Nada componen
Yo
Solo contra todos ustedes
Tempo
En boricuas en New York
What's up
Cuantos me van a tirar
Uh-huh!
Tiren y demen promocion
Yo
Solo contra todos ustedes
Tempo
En boricuas en New York
What's up
Cuantos mas van a tirar
Uh-huh!
Tiren y demen promocion
Este mensaje llega por correo, el mensajero
Tu no tienes actitud para ser rapero
Primero deja de mirarte tanto en el espejo
Tienes que ser real y dejar de actuar tan pendejo
Estas en un viaje de lindo y yo de feo
Esta bien
Pero no salgas actuando de cartero en un video
Dejandome ver
Y al el gatiendole al escuadron del panic
Montandose en un barco que se undio como el titanic
I smoke blunts
Y Nicky, tu por una "X" das el ano
Maricon, gusano
Imitas bien a Mexicano
Te gusta tirar la piedra y esconder la mano
Te lo juro te voy hacer cantos, y yo no juro en vano
Lo que va a quedar de ti y de Yankee va a ser historia
Cuando los meta en el baul de un Gran Victoria
Y los tiren
En el mundo de los riscos de Cayey
Quien es el rey del rap
Respeten la ley
Pa' que tu veas!
Ecko!
Boricuas NY, man!
You cant fuck with us!
Come on! Come on!
Fuck you, man!
Jodanse!
Mueranse solos!
No respect!
Alone Against All of You
Yeah, man!
Puerto Ricans NY!
What's up!
No respect!
They know my name now!
Come On!
I start the action
With the one two, one two
Hey me, who has more flow than me?
Master Joe is dead in life with the bimbasos
Don't suffer anymore, my friend, and shoot yourself
Tell the black man to do you a favor and rest in peace
To send you a crown in the name of David Sanchez
And the other crown belongs to my people at heart
What is that worth to the greatest alicaton?
Come on!
They have the Olympic floor
Or nervous attacks
Snipers target themselves
Die for your selfishness, mamabichos
And by the power that contracts in my rhythm
I am the same
What a look and fit
Tempo
The one who smokes grass
In Boricuas NY
Making an impact
in connection
Crossing the pond from New York
To Puerto Rico
Making Polaco and Lito suck
I
Alone against all of you
Tempo
In Puerto Ricans in New York
What's up
How many are they going to throw at me?
Uh-huh!
Shoot and give them promotion
I
Alone against all of you
Tempo
In Puerto Ricans in New York
What's up
How many more are they going to throw?
Uh-huh!
Shoot and give them promotion
The squad does not exist
They already died for clowns
They picked up songs
And they want to try shots
Nobody pays attention to them anymore
People laugh at you
Nobody wants them anymore
They have no fans or women
Poor Master
He has only a few days left to live.
He looks skinny and due to physical wear and tear
He doesn't even breathe anymore
Poor Bruno
He will be left alone in the war
One by one
You and I
And I'm going to make you eat dirt
Monkey, here
Here's your bonus banana
You don't have lyrics
You can never sit on my throne
I eat your ass
And to those who throw me
To those who support the squad
And to those who look at me badly
So much talk about snipers
They aimed wrong
They were scared
What kind of fuckers
They don't have balls
Don't talk about values
If there are no hearts
Mamones are my gender
They make up nothing
I
Alone against all of you
Tempo
In Puerto Ricans in New York
What's up
How many are they going to throw at me?
Uh-huh!
Shoot and give them promotion
I
Alone against all of you
Tempo
In Puerto Ricans in New York
What's up
How many more are they going to throw?
Uh-huh!
Shoot and give them promotion
This message arrives by mail, the messenger
You don't have the attitude to be a rapper
First stop looking so much in the mirror.
You have to be real and stop acting so stupid.
You are on a pretty trip and I am on an ugly trip
Alright
But don't act as a postman in a video
letting me see
And the one who beats the panic squad
Riding on a ship that sank like the titanic
I smoke blunts
And Nicky, you give your ass for an "X"
Faggot, worm
You imitate Mexican well
You like to throw the stone and hide your hand
I swear I'm going to make songs to you, and I don't swear in vain
What will remain of you and Yankee is going to be history
When I put them in the trunk of a Great Victory
and throw them away
In the world of the cliffs of Cayey
Who is the king of rap
Respect the law
So you can see!
Ecko!
Puerto Ricans NY, man!
You cant fuck with us!
Come on! Come on!
Fuck you, man!
Fuck you!
Die alone!
No respect!