Round B.
Uh
I'm bored of these vagabonds
I answer them all and * them, bro
You're not a measure, you think you're a paper
I was a brother with the scabs
Now I'm a brother with the brothers
I'm a brother with the scabs
My mom is looking for me, the old ones
Better not to give it to others
They think it's, but it's not
The dramas are starting, I don't know why
We go out to make money, pronto
We eat well on the table, you write with risotto
I don't give from two,
I give from three,
like Alonso
When you see me on the day,
like winning the lottery
I want to call her at night With my brothers,
after the money we make now
I have two thousand,
I want hundreds more I want more,
I don't stay now,
I collect them all
I've been waiting for two days,
I don't answer anymore I try to hold back,
but I already know that you're asking me
How?
Well,
I'm still looking for an album But life after me,
I don't know what to say anymore
And this is kind of crazy,
pronto,
soto,
botox It looks good,
I like everything
I don't want to break everything I do,
you know it's fire,
fire,
traffic light
A red light,
but my brother tells me stop,
stop A stop,
stop,
stop,
I have no place,
place
I don't need luck,
I have a scope I walk again over the top,
I take a non-stop
I don't return, no, no, no
And not my brother I'm falling,
whiskey and powder
Crystals,
estrellas,
what a grave The air,
the fever,
you know I'm rocking
And not my brother I'm falling,
whiskey and powder
Crystals,
estrellas,
what a grave The air,
the fever,
you know I'm rocking
And not my brother I'm falling,
whiskey and powder
Crystals,
estrellas,
what a great The air,
the fever,
you know I'm rocking
And not my brother I'm falling,
whiskey and powder