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I feel like fucking you, squeezing you, breaking you
Bite you, hate you, the gentleman will eat you
Pull out your eyes, stain you red
Open your guts like Jack the Ripper
I feel like slitting your throat with what What I write
Using the worst adjectives
To describe the anger I feel
I am going to take you out of your seat, out of your place, out of your chair
With my own mouthpiece I am going to tear off your knees
From the Antilles to all the gangs
The Visitor getting words out of me with the clue
Respect for Nicaragua and the Sandinista struggle
I already swallowed 5 sheets of coca
They have me foaming at the mouth
I'm sure that if they run wild and touch me
I'll make anyone dance la vida loca
I'll live the movie even if it's ridiculous
br/>I quickly become as brutal as a caveman
And I don't think, my brain fails me
And I'm going on the trip to the Himalayas
If it reaches the limit and I burn you in the Masaya
br/>If you want to be macho, I'll burn you in the mombacho
And your body is left chopped into picachos
Pinche culero, gringo, gabacho
Pause, I am a rebel with a cause
I am a guerrilla of the land
Born and raised in the mountains
Among the undergrowth, through the mountain range of war
Get here, to my lair
I swear to' The world here is pure life
But if you attempt against my life
Maybe a suicide bomb will do the job
I don't need tools, mine is by hand
I will kill you artisan style
By hand I'll suck any worm
While I smoke a Cuban cigar
I want to break the fingers of your hand
I want to scratch you like parmesan cheese
I want to send you flying and it's not by airplane
Not even the Vatican can save you today
Don't worry, I'm a calm guy
I'm not a gangster, I don't move kilos either
What I need something with a edge
What I need is half a yard of thread
To put it around your neck
What's more, no
I'll hang you with your own hair
You You feel anger, I feel anger
Let's see who raves first
Let's see how your neck stretches
Let's see who breathes in the end
This man when he speaks It's not in vain
That they don't take me out for the Araucano Indian thing
The army of the people in the foreground
The choir so that it sounds nice we don't need a piano
Come on, hey