Tambores (part. Pressure 9X19 y Soul)

I ain't talking about connections
Heading to the crib with my crew
You look like a joke, I ain't playing
All my boys are smoking that good stuff
People don’t point fingers, the old heads are
A real piece of work with some balls, the drums are banging

War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, the drums
War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, bro

You don’t know the thug, you’re talking big
It ain't your family, just a hater
If you cross me, I’m holding a grudge
I’m serious, I got stories with Franco from Mocoso, yeah

Jere picked me up in the Prince and took me to record
I remember being messed up, coming from a heist
God put me in front and said, it’s your time
And since then, I haven’t seen anyone who can catch up
I’m the teacher, I was the baddest
On the street, on the track, I’m the best
Say my name and they’ll come for you without mercy
It’s been a while since making money is the game

I ain't talking about connections
Heading to the crib with my crew
You look like a joke, I ain't playing
All my boys are smoking that good stuff
People don’t point fingers, the old heads, I’m
A real piece of work with some balls, the drums are banging
War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, the drums
War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, bro

They said war, I bought a stick, I bought a piece
On the road it’s tough, only the weak trip up
I broke the stages, never crossed my mind
The fifth is to get married, man, finish it quick

I walk smoother than a Ferrari’s horse
The baguettes are on ice, I brake and you’re last like the Titanic
In my town, man, they ain’t throwing parties
I fill the drums, I’m heading to the field to hunt the challenges

They’re coming for Magheri, the one who rolled with my crew
The puppet, the hood, nominated for trap of the year

We don’t trust faith, nobody’s passing the cloth
In the good times I gave it all, in the bad I’m stingy
From PR to Tenerife, we got the route, call two [?]
They fly off while they suck, those sons of bitches
And if they kill me like Tupac
One of mine turned me in like Eve tasted the fruit

I ain't talking about connections
Heading to the crib with my crew
We look like the Jonas Brothers
All the old heads are smoking that good stuff
People don’t point fingers at the old heads, I’m
A real piece of work with some balls, the drums are banging
War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, the drums
War for those bastards, soul
They’re even having hallucinations, the drums
Got these people moving their heads, you heard?