I followed
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The most who writes remember
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the concord low
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fringe and blow
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Bottle and Black Label
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Marimba to the flabel and I feel slow
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The asicala'o car
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Polished and shined
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I walk with six chains
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The wallet is full, I'm already flying
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Where I tremble
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I win all the female
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I have a nerve of steel
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A 4.0 that is not for fucking
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It wasn't that I was born, the street made me
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We started from the bottom, I left the floor
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I did not dress it up, I kept the case
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The points and the stews…
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Mr. controversy is back
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laramercy
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The day I die let my jersey go up
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23 from the Bulls, not Jorda's at wizards
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The hanger is so full that a shirt does not fit
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There are no mahomes to be a jogger and two hundred sneakers
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Who is the most that writes, that Benny appears in Google
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Who could defend us if the chapulin died
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Well get hooked Two short, Six combs, the magazine
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The girls love me, the men criticize
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The street made me the singers itch
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There's a deluge of money like Noah's ark
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I have no blood in my body I am full of Möet
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I'm in the machine, a bastard outburst
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When I smoke I change the lyrics to this song (Hahaha)
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You know that I'm from the street, there are whores and a pistol
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That I remember when the event was lying around
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And now I have KTM, Yekiti and Gallo 500
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They tried to humiliate me and I never let them down
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And now I front them because I'm hard and front
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Throw me if you want I eat, sleep and boy
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What else am I going to write if I have already said everything
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Millionaire at twenty I sing on a whim
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In this talk they have to suck the bug
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Don't snore me in the season if you don't make it to Play Off
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You are a cockroach, I bathe you in off
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Crown me with diamonds and rubies
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Pal that the donkey does not fall by mail do not send it
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It is hammered, it is chambea, but they pull a little
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We take them out of balance even if they are in a new balance
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Snore what you snore and walk with whoever you walk with
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I may be smaller but the street made me great
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Where I tremble
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I take all the females
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I have nerves of steel
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A 4.0 that is not for fucking
|
It wasn't that I was born, the street made me
|
We started from the bottom, I left the floor
|
It wasn't that I was born, the street made me
|
We started from the bottom, I left the floor
|
I did not dress it up, I kept the case
|
The points and the stews…
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Where I stand they tremble even though they have no proof on the scene
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The caps, the 40 are the ones that joke with me
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I'm still unharmed, they threw me a couple of times on the express
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I end up stepping on his face with the retro Jordans
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Devil Rasta is the fronteo I'm still alive and under deo
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Who can against the wolves and the money society
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You are stuck and I don't see you
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I walk with minors and you die if they point their finger at you
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Powerful like RealG4Life baby
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The hardest in this Gringo and Benny Benni
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Rasta the bottle of champagne that is uncorked
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It costs more than the chains of yours bathed in a can
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I don't like frontiar but Benny says this one is okay
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So I'm going to tell you a couple of stories about my brother Ale
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When we were in the Porsche colorao, well assail
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With the Sound Roof esplallao, well almoroliao
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With the retro Jordans that for those times were not retro
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They were new, but with the ouclut and with the teva flip flops
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But with the beach, the short and the flowho
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Your rapeton still sounds weak
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Calm down dad, everything changes
|
Rewind the cassette and get smokey
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My respect for DJ Negro and Vico
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To my knowledge that is the hardest in Puerto Rico
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Shut up boy, this is crazy
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Everyone puts their hand here, nobody here is ñoko
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And my bad in case I get stuck
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But the name that is running around is that of Broko
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The street made me and I graduated with honors
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From the underground I'm one of the best
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I was raised between the points, rifles with the drums
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Hesitating with cats of all colors
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One day in the hotel another in the farmhouse
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I didn't want a problem, I was always in my mess
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I was in a retired time and lost
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And look at me now the gender is mine
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Million on the net, the radios riot
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I kill with the videos the concerts explode
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What is my inspiration?, there is the detail
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A label didn't make me, the street made me |
the concord low
|
fringe and blow
|
Bottle and Black Label
|
Marimba to the flabel and I feel slow
|
The asicala'o car
|
Polished and shined
|
I walk with six chains
|
The wallet is full, I'm already flying
|
Where I tremble
|
I win all the female
|
I have a nerve of steel
|
A 4.0 that is not for fucking
|
It wasn't that I was born, the street made me
|
We started from the bottom, I left the floor
|
I did not dress it up, I kept the case
|
The points and the stews…
|
I own the movement, musically I'm an expert
|
My thing is to add, my friend, I never rest
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I have all the retro, I control the metro area
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And I have partners on the island, my sister, who are respectful
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I put it to the shortys later and I don't even answer them
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I don't want Psycho types who put twenty excuses
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Bottles of blue label, the philly and the endo
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With a humble budget, and whoever snores I put him to bed
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I give a call to the boss and have him lower all the clothes
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The Rolex endiamantoa, so that you understand me
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I come from below and I stay with the whole store
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And I have a couple of small shops that are paying me rent
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And I'm still here…
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And I'm not going to drop it huh, huh
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My old folks taught me Wo oh oh
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To never back down...
|
(Ladies And Gentlemen)
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Yet another suit is Yankee Sterium plo, plo
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Even a dead man rises to listen to my 16
|
Who has killed the two Millenium? |
plo plo
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I'm going to reveal my secret to you, I come from space
|
Help, I'm the panic, screams gushing
|
An unidentified object hit piggyback
|
He took over the world because it was necessary
|
It tells the story of a phenomenon called Daddy
|
Alice Parkinson, legend on the microphone
|
Downloading the programs to these Microsoft bugs
|
Satellite of the case you are worse than a G.P.S
|
They spend carrying and bringing request J.P.S
|
With four bars they sent him to the helmet (One less)
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There are three left and they hit the nail on the head with everything full
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Two are missing And to one of them, God gave him the notice
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Of that group there is one left to me the street made me
|
This is just a start, from Three Two Thousand One, Five
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Guaranteed I'm going to leave Two or Three trinco, fried
|
tie your boots soldier
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That this year if I come turned
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Mueka throws away the philly we're smoking Baxy, relaxy
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In the back of the taxy
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Manhattan, Walking along the Brooklyn Bridge
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We caught you in New York and we turned off your Switch
|
Home boy, we're still at the top at a gallop
|
There is no party that cleavage
|
Promoters secure your money, first
|
That when it exploded in January its recovery came out
|
Very easy, the one who counts them
|
They say that Cosculluela does not write, he improvises
|
But nobody dares to cross the line
|
Because wherever you go
|
There is no hurricane that will knock down this wall. |
The princi
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The Cere Uh Uh
|
The Mueka, Brrr
|
Follow, The Producer
|
And remember that…
|
Rotweillas Inc. Men
|
The History Of This Genre
|
LG, Da One
|
If You Know Her (Da Boss)
|
The princi
|
Dictates That Only One Character
|
tell me benni
|
La Brea did it
|
print…
|
Chris G
|
the fucking
|
SK Records |