NAIPES

Leaders, lobby, attention, puppets, photos, flash, million
I thought we could talk, but I listened and honestly, no
Your shadow's heavy today
Is it that in your skin there are two living?
Saying one thing and lying about
Are you for real or just faking it?
Formidable and forgettable, I don’t trust or talk to anyone
Just by looking at you, I see your cards
Vibrations don’t match, no
I read the language framed in pupils that want to mess with my vibe
Backstabbers, favors, family
And my body parades in a salt bath
They love you, invite you, incite you, and hate you, then go back to the start
Ouroboros of the rapper, fear, throne, chrome, chrome, throne, fear
They ask for the neck of the poison, those blades, now they work as barbers
We’re accomplices in the game because you keep quiet about the plan and I see it
I become a sniper at the small table aiming from the cable car
And I shoot thanks from my pupils at these energy vampires
The vibrations they emit keep me on the peripheral
I smile, don’t talk, and it’s over, yeah
I shake your hand on those terms
Numbers, melon, disguise of a Goat?
Paint the feedback, pretend it’s not
OG's, not G's, please pay attention
Less talk and record it
The writing 24/7, by 17 I was already my own dad
I'm grinding on my life
Bregante is big from before the curved visors
I listened to Nipsey in times of crisis and made my CD a request
I healed family patterns
Deep shit, I changed my life with a pencil

Without shame or glory
I don’t fake ties for the plan of Victory
I stay quiet if I’m not gonna talk, end of the story
I keep my record clean in memory
And I know who doesn’t

A rapper talks to me about family in his lines after cheating on his woman behind her back
He comes, incites me, invites me, smiles, and gives me the speech that we’re a pair
Sure, buddy, of course we’re a pair
Of course I’m in the plan
To keep this business going on the weekend
He asks me to pose sideways for the flash
And I don’t buy it
I have to write enough until lines come out of my lips
On the sidelines, still in the disguise of time
In front of the blank page, I’m fishing
In the feverish jail of weak silence
This stubborn pencil whistles
Breathing fertile the heavy impact of dying to finally say something
In this game of fake idols, walking mannequins, and opinionated folks
There are those who talk after those who do
Behind the bitterness in the methodical
The cold blood that despite drought appreciates the day being histrionic
Wins by the polyphonic
The honor post-dust for historical
I have to keep the flame alive in front of two families when I record
Dreaming of lines, staying in line, and challenging myself in life in what I do
Extending my palm in a graceful pose for God to come down by hand
Seeing the sweet essence of the essential light giving in its sentence this miracle
It doesn’t matter the day, month, or date, it’s my harvest, I’m recording
Thinking of mom, praying to Victor
Asking time to bring something
Honor in life, love, family
Last line, I’m already barefoot
There’s no way out, cut this wound
I fight, we did it, I’m crying

Without shame or glory
I don’t fake ties for the plan of Victory
I stay quiet if I’m not gonna talk, end of the story
I keep my record clean in memory
And I know who doesn’t