In this clik,
gang thieves, boatmen and gunmen are found.
And the shock is that I know they don't want us,
they prefer to see us waxed for years.
In this clik,
gang thieves, boatmen and gunmen are found.
And the shock is that I know they don't want us,
they prefer to see us waxed for years.
In these streets of Los Angeles,
that every night they ask for blood
me I fill my lungs with air.
And he dresses as a soldier to arm me.
Preparing,
the way ahead,
I shoot seed with a microphone.
Writing, in the land of the Aztec
We are from here,
and pride bothers them
Stolen land,
borrowed land.
It costs you dearly,
it is worth nothing to you.
And the clowns
They drink milk with eruho.
Pure poison, and I don't care about you.
What a lot of paqui and paya movement.
And every guerrilla who falls
it wants to fly.
And the battle continues tomorrow
it never ends
And I step forward,
they want to judge me.
Every night I control the microphone
And every day it burdens me more, this life doesn't let me any more
I want to fly, I want to fly!
Every night I control the microphone
And every day it burdens me more, this life doesn't let me leave more
I want to fly, I want to fly!
In this click,
gang thieves, boatmen and gunmen meet.
And the shock is that they don't love us,
they prefer to see us waxed for years.
Finishing us, ourselves
Attacking us, in every place
Enough! With a life spent!
When a soldier falls it is the family that pays
Then comes revenge.
Revenge, shots in the back
And no one wins
Souls lost, and prayers touch the sky
and ask for peace. But not anymore.
The cynic, I wonder
how I will fly
with punctured wings
and tied hands.
I break the ropes,
they don't control me.
With a free mind, I'm going to fly!
Every night I control the microphone
And every day it burdens me more, this life doesn't leave me any more
I want fly, I want to fly!
Every night I control the microphone
And every day it burdens me more, this life doesn't let me anymore
I want to fly, I want to fly!
And let it continue the poet with his lyrics
[In these streets of Los Angeles,]
The activist with his sight,
[who ask for blood every night]
and the rapper, with his game
[I fill my lungs with air.]
Removing the bricks from the chasm of progress.
[And he dresses as a soldier to arm me.]
Every night controlling I, the microphone
And every day it burdens me more, this life doesn't let me anymore
I want to fly, I want to fly!.....

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