| This woman is looking at me
|
| And telling me that he wants me in the middle
|
| funky dance funky
|
| Pretty girl the way the nigga screams
|
| It's on the lapda
|
| We are taking the blood
|
| South, this woman is telling me
|
| What the will gives in the south
|
| The compass is telling me that she is in the south
|
| You with the weapon at your side
|
| Be careful in the fight that this king in the belly
|
| It's getting old
|
| Alto there I deny crazy
|
| Are you afraid of what you came for?
|
| You have wobbly legs like who is going to die
|
| I'm tired of TV and the fashion bombing
|
| Order to buy everything I see
|
| Everything she has to sell
|
| I'm tired I'm a callus on my fingers
|
| Hand on the wheel
|
| That doesn't stop growing
|
| The law doesn't know the difference between what it's like to be and to go crazy
|
| The medicine is so strong that it kills a little every day
|
| If every excess was seen as weakness
|
| And not as an insult
|
| It already took me out of the suffocation
|
| The door is always open to the people
|
| Bark from the savannah, the dead of hunger arrived
|
| Dirt from another part that comes to soil your name
|
| I told you that the thief who steals
|
| He's well dressed and I've seen a lot
|
| This noise on the roof is the wind that life takes
|
| It's old-fashioned thinking, it erases you by burning the grass
|
| Rooted is the owner of the foot that sticks in the ground
|
| And makes the bridge
|
| People of Zé offense
|
| It is in the church that the people empty their bags
|
| There are four saints, three burning kunk
|
| Deciding the fate of others as if it were God
|
| Behind the table the butcher commands
|
| And the intolerance sends me back to the dock
|
| Arming with propaganda
|
| In that spider's web there's a snake, a dog and a mouse
|
| And the medicine to kill is green and made from weeds
|
| The time has come to change, put for new blood
|
| And leave this door always open to the people
|
| Bark from the savannah, the dead of hunger arrived
|
| Dirt from another part that comes to soil your name
|
| I told you that the thief who steals
|
| He's well dressed and I've seen a lot
|
| This noise on the roof is the wind that life takes
|
| It's old-fashioned thinking, it erases you by burning the grass
|
| Rooted is the owner of the foot that sticks in the ground
|
| And makes the bridge
|
| Justice doesn't look at me because it's blind
|
| But her money in her wallet she sees
|
| The law of the dog is nothing more than man's own law
|
| And the more I looked, the belief increased
|
| That the guard on your side is nothing you think
|
| For the people of the cerrado
|
| From top of Colorado
|
| has another name
|
| People of Zé offense |