Mãe Natureza

They choose me
If you want to know where the rides come from
From the little hustlers, pros on the team
Who come down for the workers

Closing down the Raposo Tavares
Every day there's a new bike
A bunch of power shows up
In the hood

The common folks are surprised
Trying to figure it out, but they never know anything
On the Anchieta, the kids on V-Stroms
Few ideas, none for anyone
It was a Bandit on the shoulder

Brought to the hood the 1100
A saying from the street
That a lot of kids are identifying with

And in the streets of São Paulo, the motto is to get rich or die trying
On the Ayrton Senna highway, plenty of hot rides all around

All at once
The kids blew up bringing Ducatis and BMWs

One eye on the fish and the other on the cat
Always alert for the slowpokes

If they come in hot, you know it's a getaway
I want to see them find the garage in the woods
The rockets are well hidden
And the kids are specialized

The GPS has been rigged
No signal, so it's favorable

We left the robots resting, eating grass and hiding
In the woods
On the weekend we came out, the common folks were impressed
With every rev, a melody, just cuts, pops, wheelies, and chaos

We left the robots resting, eating grass and hiding in the woods
On the weekend we came out, the common folks were impressed
With every rev, a melody, just cuts, pops, wheelies, and chaos

On the four lanes, it's the drakes in charge

The Pan-American protocol, shift to neutral, veer into the median
Put it in gear, get off the ride
If you speed up, hit the pit stop
One comes in for a check, another comes in for a pickup

Take off the cap, Jaco, and the fingerless gloves
And for 40 years, comes with 3 suitcases
Three iron trunks, and it's yellow and black
It was a big scene back on the Anchieta
Pelé four balls, two of the black ones

Like GTA with a 6-star rep
At nightfall, a party in the hood
There'll be high-displacement rides
With full engines, spitting fire
And the luxury D's attacking again

The good times have arrived in the hood
Call the shutdown for the procedure
I’m without the little devil, but there’s the thicket
Under the tower, cutting the signal
We stopped the net and the TV

All means of communication
Only one in Brazil, comes to the hands of the big boys
The 400 lane was an innovation
On the highway, the constant danger
Terror on Arica, Anchieta, and Imigrantes

By the little ball, you can tell it’s the rebels
In the protocol, I’m no beginner
Hand on the handlebars, revolver on the visor
Shift to neutral, no joking around
After the check, drop it in gear

You’ll only come out alive because it’s not a jump
Want to know about the D's garage?
Ask Mother Nature!