| Gold chains tighten, increase the tension
|
| Bro, they make me a slave to the fury within my name
|
| I drink one too many and lose affection
|
| I am not exaggerating: if I think that I am already pulling my heart out of my chest
|
| Bro, it's anger that makes me hungry
|
| We are like mother and child: you can cut the cord, not the bond
|
| The weight of my stories that you rest on my Tanita
|
| Not a kid who wants to live my life
|
| I don't want weights (no) for a generation that is with weights
|
| Bro, including the good guys
|
| And when you close your eyes you feel them, they come back for you
|
| They collect the credits of the winners
|
| You're done shit, the taste comes back in your teeth
|
| It's worse if you do like the Corleonesi and don't regret it (ohh)
|
| I keep my back on the wall if I turn the corners
|
| I'm afraid that life will embrace me and then strangle me
|
| I write, I know that my times do not have the wings of angels
|
| But alive, I prefer to repent than to regret them
|
| Every deep friendship pays dearly
|
| Head and parry it (yeah) when you aim the barrel and shoot (boom)
|
| They spy on my ghosts at night
|
| If the sweet paranoia gets on my bed and fucks me
|
| RIT. |
| (x2)
|
| Squalor room, Guernìca, a pill for a friend
|
| I sweat ice, I don't like myself e. |
| mother god
|
| Autopsy, look inside what you find:
|
| Malacarne, shit and brambles
|
| And I'm sorry but you don't always succeed when you try
|
| Sweet paranoia that lulls me, that skin me
|
| Maybe I'll kick the bucket, overdosed as an executioner
|
| I never tell lies because I have a bad memory
|
| I hear voices, I see crosses. |
| bad story
|
| My hand stops, the sushi falls into the soy
|
| Locked in the trunk of an old Seat Corolla
|
| They slaughter at two thousand an hour, five times roundabout
|
| For anxiety I win the Oscar KO De la Hoya
|
| And that's the shit I breathe, pull and inhale
|
| That makes me look back when I walk around
|
| I hear Ken Shiro's wiggly head explode
|
| Above shattered glass without being a fakir
|
| And I'm in trouble when I'm falling asleep
|
| Because there is no remote control for nightmares
|
| A Venus enters the room with a revolver and
|
| He takes the cannon out of my mouth and puts a cannon in my mouth
|
| Bad people, bad environment, bad music
|
| He poisons my glass and kisses me with a rough tongue
|
| I hate in the mood, how many pears, just magnet infamous
|
| And I can't have the girl, only sluts and Nikita
|
| This fiction is serious, what will I tell my son?
|
| Devilish substance, I am falling without a grip
|
| There is someone who catches me even if I move an eyebrow
|
| And no one who loves me. |
| nobody.
|
| RIT. |
| (x2) |