Pozole

You go and fuck your low-life bomb, bitch
Filthy and dragged down, sold-out, daughter of a whore
The poor idiot shouldn’t have to pay
The worst thing you could do was mention my mother

Your lack of respect and codes don’t burn me anymore
Talking shit about the dead is for cowards
You brought your mom into it, and Fiona jumped in on her own
I never bring family into it, you messed up on your own

We all know you’re hooked on the crico
That’s why you stay dim in your career
I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been arrested
For pure crimes you should be ashamed of

You’re not an example of anything, you’ve never done shit, you haven’t improved
You didn’t lose weight, you just have a tight ass
Even your people know, chubby, that you’ve already flaked on me
If your girl has to defend you, you’re done for

Up with Monterrey, Los Tigres and Los Rayados
And the fans who have you scared as hell
Even if you roll out with monkeys and guns that aren’t yours
You can’t bring me into your hood, they don’t even want you in yours

The boyfriends you brought with you, I never see
So if you talk to me about your hood, I don’t believe you
You had to invite them to be in your videos
Always bringing the same old game since the little one started

Hey, what’s up to the ones in the pen?
But this is the street and you’re not a criminal,
shh, shut up, stop yelling
With all that pushing, one day you’re gonna shit yourself

The one from the Expo Monterrey, ha-ha, don’t even tell me
I faced them in their hood with their people
Not a hair touched me, gather you and 20 others
Bring your 20, and it’ll be very different

Over here, people are toasting with poison
The mafia’s partying and wants to eat some pig
Mentioning hoods that aren’t even your territory
As always, you need someone else’s balls

If I were baptized like you, I’d rather die
Though how to put that flat-nosed dog face
Your mom wanted Renata and the dude came out a girl
Better call me dog, what’s up with this Renato?

They should’ve named you pig, sounds more imposing
Or Soriana, because you used to be a giant
Or Gru, or Shrek, or Gargamel with glasses
Though, with whatever name you take, you’re still ugly

Your tours don’t exist, you’ve always been an opener
Lackey, with the boss, don’t be a troublemaker
Because damn, you’re gonna be out of work
Damn, chill with the tamales
Damn, watch out when you go out
Because with all that noise, you’ll fit in two bags

Workshops, motorcycles, jewels, and outfits
For you, there’s no future, I made it a vision
Gym, restaurants, music, I’m a businessman
Beggar, you’re aiming for the millionaire

Ask your distributor, they told me (what?)
Who do I ask? My distributor is mine
You were born to be a lackey, I’d prefer
To act like it doesn’t hurt that I caught up to you again

No crap you put out, you only ride on others
That’s why you collaborate and hang on to other people’s balls
I made my career alone, they wouldn’t know you
If the other guy hadn’t introduced you, fuck it

But yeah, it’s cool what you say, kid
You’re the bomb and you’re the tank
Your manager looked for mine, but mine was at the bank
He laughed and said: I’ll call you later

Now that we ignore you, like all the burned ones
You come out saying you wouldn’t record with me
If I don’t pay attention to my bitches, the barking starts
You’re not my hater, you’re my resentful fan

Don’t spit up, light it up, my God
The audience keeps us going, don’t drag them into the mess
Throwing shade at those who fill my concerts
And don’t go to yours, that’s why they’re empty

My shot, it’s not you that everyone sees
It’s all lies, bullshit you throw at me
I’ll give you my YouTube plaque if you retire
And two fucks to your mother for every time you breathe

It’s clear that it hurt you
You almost cried talking halfway through the song
We gotta check that out
(a-ma-ma, a-ma-ma-ma-ma)
Shut up the circuses, pig
And today you’re really burned, because I recorded with your idols
While they send you to hell
And don’t talk to me about numbers
With just my YouTube channel, I’m good
Compare it with your channel-
Oh, you don’t have one, your dad took it away
You went from being the one with the jokes and the school’s laughingstock
To a lackey of an old man who kept bullying you
Ha-ha-ha-ha
It’s the little dog of the C
Tell me, Maxo
The master Alex
They’re gonna have to write us another one
Cha-cha-chau