[Featuring: Chele, Madhi]
(Chorus)
This is not going to be a soft rap!
Testosterone for the neighborhood, come on!
Something for the club and something for the street!
And if you don't have a love for Hip-Hop, this is not worth it!
(VERSo 1)
I, I came forâ to give you only what I give.
The same, perhaps, the best of who I am.
For your city to play, I'm going there
if I get the visa.
He who came and doesn't drink wine, why did he come?
Spinning around like a whirlpool.
Making very serious but boring rap.
Long time underground like Chinese bamboo.
Go ahead! OK! Come out of your hole, vato!
Go ahead! OK! Let the bills fly, stop!
Mommy! Mommy! Move your hips a lot!
Yala! Yala! And next time we'll go!
(Chorus)
(VERSE 2)
They didn't count on my cunning.
Your cheap rhymes are killed by these dirty rhymes.
I see your blinblineo that hangs from your neck.
As long as a big guy comes to peel your banana.
You are pathetic, materialistic like plastic.
With this rhythm you will end up epileté optic.
In the helicopter, helicopter,
butts come forward with the color of money.
I say everything like a whisper,
without raising my voice like a stabbed chinchilla.
/>Fork for my salad
of green bills and diamonds on a spoon.
Shining like gold
and sounding like a choir.
(Chorus)
(VERSE 3 )
If you don't know your history, you don't know anything.
What is DMC and Afrikaa Bambaataa?
Universal Hip-Hop is the movement.
Hands in the air! Djâs, Mcâs, Graffiti artists
Old school, leather vest.
Gangsters, gangsters, big house, money.
Afro Latin soul, talking about black.
Who doesn't like having new tennis shoes?
The garment, the clothes. Take note and note! Is there a problem with that? Well, turn off the TV!
That in 2012, everything is sold.
I take my little drink, my little green plant.
Street party unifying people...
(Chorus)

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