MADRIZ (part. Recycled J)

Last round, guys, please
Yeah
Wow (hold up, guys, please)
Yeah

The classiest trio, you’re born with this
They’re just losers, all image, better get to work
High voltage, screw the message
Balls and guts, I’ve always been a wild one

Hey, the number 1s on the charts
What started in the club ends in the parking lot
I can read your lips through your panties
Closed circles like an Audi, ha

Back to the hood and it smells like weed
Back home and it smells like you
You can catch me at the Ritz, at FABRIK, on the street
Hi-Hi-Kids of the Rui, kids of the night
Nothing to say, Madrid, Madrid, Madrid (prra)

Turn it up, turn it up!

I roll up to the Versace club, ready to mess around
With the attitude of someone you know won’t come back
I shine brighter than the sparklers of that Dom Pérignon
That those nobodies order to get attention (hey, hey)

Air cameras, Raiders jackets
Here we shine alone, no need for diamonds
Just in the dance, no one’s at the wheel
They’ll only take me out feet first

Skulls and knives, for my kids, for my Gs
Through thick and thin since the early 2000s
Grew up under the gray sky, I’m the game and I’m all in
Nothing more to say, Madrid, Madrid, Madrid

Turn it up, turn it up!
What the fuck?