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(As humble as a shitty dog)
But this Canserbero is worth more than you
Entire jewelry box)
(They don't feel superior when I speak)
(Yeah)
(I have more sense when rhyming than you)
Conversing)
(Yaoh)
(Afro in music)
(I am the truth, naked sincerity)
(It's Can)
(Even if they shoot me to kill, my lyrics will be remembered)
I am real because I am, not because I say I am real

I don't know if I'm a child of God or an angel of the Devil
All I know is that if I'm here, it's for a reason
With a pencil in his right hand and a bitter rum in his left
Like each of the verses with which I speak to you

Some people tell me not to waste my time competing
Keep writing songs like you've been doing
I know it's for the best, but there's a voice telling me
May I murder with letters all those mediocre people who curse me

They're misinforming me, they're not satisfied with crumbs
And they think that by talking nonsense they're going to silence a movement
Call it sincerity, reality, truth, or whatever you want to call it
Not even shooting me will silence my voice

Because my songs are there, several of them in quarantine
Waiting, smiling, for the moment to screw up the system
I know I'm a problem, a piece of glass inside her shoe
A pineapple under his arm, a big stain on his contract

That's why they've been campaigning against me for a while now
My childhood songs, montages, and other nonsense
Why are you surprised that a guilty person becomes a judge?
Correct your mistakes and succeed like Malcolm X did

But what would ignorant people know about that!
If they're only here for the whores and the money
Religious people say that prayers were performed on me
In a pressure cooker with corpses and bones

But even that won't give Cancer a break
And he didn't take advantage of the chances life gave him to improve himself
Stop humiliating yourselves by talking badly about me in the forums
They should measure themselves against me on stage, me against everyone

Verse by verse, beat by beat, chorus by chorus
In front of a real audience, not in front of a bunch of damn fools
They get together on weekends to say they're rappers
Singing pop and wiggling her butthole

I hate to talk about this, to waste a great lead
But what do I do? I have plenty of lyrics for the masochists
I have my sights set on representing my flag
State, city, municipality, neighborhood La Pica, Ovallera

I'll keep quiet about sons of bitches and rude people until I die
Because to raise awareness, you have to scold, even if you don't really want to
I hope that those who offer me shots today
Never grow up and never understand what I write

Because it's sad when you know you failed
And you lack the balls to apologize and move forward
However, I will continue to say Venezuela
Even if Hugo Chávez calls me a squalid one on national television someday

I will write a piece about what I think and what I see
Well, I don't care about speaking rudely to anyone because of what I believe
I will write a piece about what I think and what I see
So you know I sing whatever comes to mind, ugh!

And if there is a God above, I pray for a long life
To all those brothers who today spit at me
Why should they die of anger when I am at the top?
And they can do nothing but look at me from the bottom up

I wish a long life for my enemies
(E-wo-wo-wo-wo)
So that they can see my triumphs as much as, or even more than, I do
Yeah!

Don't make me release a normal weekly song anymore
Start respecting and recognizing what is real
I'm not going to name them, not because I care about them
Unless, of course, I can't remember their names

Please don't make me create any more competition topics
They look more like the footprints of a giant on a mouse
I've gotten the impression that the more they try to silence me, the more they try
They make me more unstoppable, with relentless heavy Hip-Hop

My hands on my head, rum spilled on the floor
My notebook is my skin, my pencil the scalpel
My eyes in a gesture of mourning and a voice that strains more
So that the assholes can criticize her even more

MCs are shitty yellow sleep on stretchers dreaming of being me
They wake up in nightmares
Trying to act wise, when it's very obvious
What they're spewing from their lips is pure shit

They give me the hand of Judas, naked with pure envy
That it tortures them to know that they cannot reach my writings
If you compare my experience with their inconsistencies
With a little patience you will notice the difference

An excess of words that traumatizes them
That cut off the displacement of hypocrites in this fauna
I am a true warrior with the inkwell, a gunner
But better known as Canserbero

Anyone could write a couple of rhymes
Not everyone who wants it has flow and coherence
If only they knew who they were messing with
Don't be so envious and show respect when you see me

Whether I arrived by car, and which woman I left with
If it's not out of envy, then why are they talking about me?
They say: If he grew up in a poor neighborhood, then why does he talk like that?
As if they didn't teach reading and writing in the neighborhoods

They must admit that the worst poverty is mental poverty
And that my greatest fortune lies in my way of thinking
Which doesn't align with the immaturity of today's kids
They only worship popularity and fashion

That is why even now, in the 21st century
They label us as third world, even though there is only one
Girls carry silicone, boys carry a cannon
And at ten they have sex because that's what the song says! Woah!

But his biggest concern
It is not the cessation of violence, nor education
But it's the bad information, because I come from a housing development
That's not true, but even if it were, so what? Would it make me wrong?

Would that detract from the heart of the truth I have written?
To that tiny fraction that has heard from my scholars?
I'm proud to be white, just like my old man
Well, I don't identify with your damn racism

They threw Can at you, what are you going to say now?
As if I cared about the envy of those ladies
They adore those damn gringos on MTV
If they found them in their balls, they'd hang on

Instead, a mother crying told me
That helped him, the topic tomorrow will be another day is a good thing
That's what matters to me, because I don't listen to rubbish
Rotten things that fantasy rappers throw at me

They still don't understand that they can't defeat the child
He prefers dirt in his ear to earrings
All your singles talk about triggers, gunshots
But if we really get to the point

He who does not learn from his mistakes lives in failure
That's why they'll always be like fashion: Short-lived
Don't you see that there's no comparison between me and you?
I didn't want to say it like this so as not to hurt their feelings, but what do they want?

If they don't respect the one they represent when they try to be nice
To all the local rap, non-profit and rent-free
They pay like a whore, throwing darts left and right
Dreaming that they will be named so that they will be taken into account

And even now I haven't bothered
Just to listen to what I know they've thrown at me
Not like many mistaken people who already think this song
It's like I know who they are

And if there is a God above, I pray for a long life
To all those brothers who today spit at me
So that they may die of anger when I am at the top
And they can do nothing but look at me from the bottom up

And if there is a God above, I pray for a long life
To all those brothers who today spit at me
So that they may die of anger when I am at the top
And they can do nothing but look at me from the bottom up

I wish a long life for my enemies
(E-wo-wo-wo-wo)
So that they can see my triumphs as much as, or even more than, I do
Yeah!

Don't make me release a normal weekly song anymore
Start respecting me and recognizing what is real
Canserbero, the Can for all those who insist on messing with me
You'd better write something down, because what's coming is no joke

Yaoh
Convict of Musa
Kapúto on the instrumental
I am death, I am evil made conscious
Your favorite MC's favorite
Don't try to make me look stupid
You can't even beat a stupid person
The peasant
I swear on my mother they won't stop me

What's wrong, chameleon?
You see, your evil doesn't hurt me
What's wrong, chameleon?
Even though I try to stop myself, I stay strong every year
What's wrong, chameleon?
I live, I live, I live by the truth, and you eat by deceit
What's wrong, chameleon?
Wherever I go, three warriors go with me
What's wrong, chameleon?
They protect my