Mis perros (part. Baby Rasta y Gringo)

Look at all these new gangsters
Spitting codes they shouldn't be
This genre started with real men
And now it's full of wannabe thugs
They talk about bugs but don’t know shit
Thinking they earn respect
I’m just chillin', watching how they
Defame the genre, mm
But if they cross me, bullets will fly

My dogs come out fierce
Riding bikes on the street, you can see them
The cars are loaded
To stash the heat and the drugs, they won’t find them
If the cops stop us
Police, watch out for the snitches, the justice
They’ll shoot if they see you pass
Roll down the window, that’s where your ride will end

My Glock works miracles, it’s the crown of Christ (amen)
I’ll make you believe in what you’ve never seen (pif, pif, pif)
Baby Rasta and Gringo (cha-cha-chau)
And on the street, we’re the real deal, we’re a crew (ah)
The avenue’s the same, here and everywhere (oh)
The bikes are unregistered, the engines are revved
What’s happened? (What?) They saw that singing it isn’t living it
It’s no use praying to death if you don’t want to meet it
Fame, respect, they don’t know how to divide them
Watch out with the guns 'cause they don’t even know how to use them (nah)
Arrest warrant issued by the authority (eh)
Your captures are just for Instagram
I know you don’t do shit, just make a fool of yourselves (damn)
Tripping, got the heat, but not the balls (no, no)
Watch your connections (and), the people in your circle (eh)
Or your story will end in this chapter (yeah)

My dogs come out fierce
Riding bikes on the street, you can see them
The cars are loaded
To stash the heat and the drugs, they won’t find them
If the cops stop us
Police, watch out for the snitches, the justice
They’ll shoot if they see you pass
Roll down the window, that’s where your ride will end

I’ve been a bit distant, spreading a healthy message
I don’t talk about guns, drugs, and cash
But go ahead, ask why they call me the bad guy
And it’s 'cause they know I’m the one who gives the slaps as gifts
Flow like Héctor and Willie, walking through the hood
And I got people who back me up
But those who know, know, I don’t need to brag
And the one who acts tough, with me it’ll get ugly
If you want war, rap or front
Get on a track to see how I surf it
But they’re talking about sticks, about where they’ll see you
And when it’s time to face it, they’re the first to snitch, normal
The fakes are fakes, they’ve always been
Only now these wannabes make the kids braver
To say things they wouldn’t dare when face to face, normal
I keep it real like clear water
That’s why, just like I have the love of many
I’m not gold to please everyone

My dogs come out fierce
Riding bikes on the street, you can see them
The cars are loaded
To stash the heat and the drugs, they won’t find them
If the cops stop us
Police, watch out for the snitches, the justice
They’ll shoot if they see you pass
Roll down the window, that’s where your ride will end

I don’t need to name us
If on the street we already have respect
Without saying we’re bad
It’s been years giving it our all
Better leave what’s quiet alone
'Cause if you pull, I pull
Pff, haha, haha, man, idiot

My dogs come out fierce (hey)
Riding bikes on the street, you can see them (this is Baby Rasta and Gringo)
The cars are loaded (the Wolves)
To stash the heat and the drugs, they won’t find them (Mexico and PR with C-Kan)
If the cops stop us (the moment has come)
Police, watch out for the snitches, the justice (the real street is no joke)
They’ll shoot if they see you pass (uh-huh)
Roll down the window, that’s where your ride will end

Kids, little ones
Leave those codes hidden where they belong
Stop this snitching in the songs
And making little videos that will get people caught, when you don’t even pull weight, yeah.