HIJOS DE LA CAPITAL (part. Recycled J, Charlie Hijos Bastardos y Nasta)

I make cash in Madrid, then I swap it for pesos (cash)
Counting bills from the hustle and sending them to my folks
And if the kids stare at me when I’m out in the city
I don’t know if it’s the car I drive or the girl I’m with

I head downtown praying no one recognizes me
I’m eating burgers that cost a buck but they taste like lobster
I roll into the spot floating, like a stash on the shore
And they’re not any dumber 'cause they don’t have a podcast

Some think they know me but they’ve never seen my face
And it’s not that Gonzalo isn’t Natos, life just ain’t TikTok
I’ve got an expensive lawyer and an expert
'Cause I’m in love with the night and with crime

And now I’m feeling chill (ah)
Another crib, another—, shh, another kilo (ah)
If I want it, I buy it, I don’t rent
When they talk about snitches, I just shut up and smile
Tell 'em, Charlito

From the first tape, the first move, the first tag
You tried it and liked it, got hooked since you were a kid
Never knew if the good stuff is sand or lime (Bastards)
From La Ruina, kids of the fucking capital

I kick off another new day like Cris in the spiral
You tried it and liked it, now there’s no turning back
Now pop the champagne, escape, break the glass
Live a fucking world out there, from Atocha to Tribunal

I’m neither captain nor general, but to get you in line is enough
Flags at half-mast for this funeral
There’s only one truth: Self-respect and omertà
I came to prove with actions, closing a non-verbal pact

The first date, the first kiss, the first fuck
There was no place to learn, it was fail until you hit
If they do it again, they’ll remind you where they stand
Remember the holy initials, HB, Bastard Fam

Stamps on the passport and on my fingers (uh-huh)
Laces around my neck and on my Air Forces
From Aluche to Canillejas, from Barajas to Lucero (ah)
From Oporto to Vallecas, and from Madrid to the sky

I swear the cash is the least of it
What do I want the money for if I can’t buy time?
My grandpa will never see his grandson succeed
And my aunt won’t see her son grow old

This is for them, we toast and drink
We laugh and cry, remembering moments
After all, what is life if not that?
Everything that happens between the baby food and the serum

Bastard Sons, the lineage
Kids of Ruin, wild attitude, a moon landing
Trio of kings and a pair of aces (yes)
For H and for B, and for the face, for my mother

Mafia K'1 Fry, Chevignon, hand in hand in Avignon
This clear turn happened, Madrid toasts in Pérignon
If you already know who they are, without thinking of the million
The chain of my crew, not a shrimp cord

At the top of the rock, we fuck around in Olympus
Not a peep from your boys if they dance with these five
The TNs on the floor look like the Kinton Cloud
We come from another era, everything was very different

Tragedies on the mic, one, two, ready kids
Underground street, I’ve sold thousands of records
We started from the bottom and legends of the district
They didn’t give us the cake, we devoured it in bites

Gaddafi, Bastards, 91 is the prefix
The city wanted it this way, all stashes for its kids
For ours, the kids raised in the ranch
In your Beema, well-powered, cats, tough guys, and locals

Kids of Ruin and the Bastards, knife in the teeth like Rambo
For the capital, the crown, and for the scepter
The feature you’ve been waiting for is coming from afar
Back in 2008, a park in Carabanchel Alto

And a dude sent me a random grease through infrared
That changed my life and my crew’s (yeah)
Long before meeting Gonzalo and Fernando
Eating seeds on a bench, speaking backwards, lunfardo

We were four in a ride, drifting and it’s not Monte Carlo
Yesterday: Honey, I got nothing, now we’re stuck like a tango
We’ve grown up the little ones, not the money from the tree (wuh, wuh)

How cool and how slick is this kid
I want the podium if we fit five
From the river to the KIO, without passing through Leganitos
The Bear and the Strawberry Tree, Nasta and Charlito