| I am the cook of your best dishes
|
| Let me soak you with what I soak
|
| I'm here feeling my shiver
|
| I'm not missing one, maybe I'm missing more
|
| Polish and sand, rap without lights
|
| he! |
| give me what they take from me
|
| Not all the hens give golden eggs
|
| If life doesn't smile at me I tickle it
|
| Little hold, they are not prepared
|
| They understand it when it has already happened
|
| You're going to get fed up with what you've wanted
|
| of eating fish
|
| But never of the good results
|
| Are you still not burned?
|
| I'm dyeing all dorao's clothes
|
| Love between morao' and morao'
|
| touch excuse me
|
| When he arrives, he doesn't want more
|
| He has been beaten'
|
| They know that I have the cannon guarded
|
| And the stars and the moon of my side
|
| If they hit you, go away, and enjoy the smell of my stew'
|
| I am the cook of your best dishes
|
| Let me soak you with what I soak
|
| I'm here feeling my shiver
|
| I'm not missing one, maybe I'm missing more
|
| Polish and sand, no gift na'
|
| I get paid
|
| Life, remember me, my face
|
| Not even in short do they clarify it for you
|
| It doesn't heal today, it will heal tomorrow
|
| I'm going for what we said, tigers and flares
|
| With scissors, cut and nail
|
| Without tare, the bad flies non-stop
|
| From there to here in one drag
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| And another strains and another washes
|
| Another hit with your head held high
|
| Much to command, much to gain
|
| Little to lose, and there is nothing more
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| Field to run, tree to fell
|
| Men get more used to weekends
|
| I am neither more nor less, for you my little face
|
| Talking about money is very ugly if you don't invite me
|
| I am the cook of your best dishes
|
| Let me soak you with what I soak
|
| I'm here feeling my shiver
|
| I'm not missing one, maybe I'm missing more |