LA ÚLTIMA

A pintadera protects me from all evils
At eighteen, I put it on and never took it off
God had plans for me, knew I would be great
I always feel Him close, even though I never speak to Him

When I started in LPGC
It was impossible for music to feed you
I think as I enter a Michelin star
Money changed me, but

Sometimes, I can't stop crying remembering all the nights I cried
And remembering why I cried
And I wrote and recorded, stayed up all night
Everything was so pure that

Where I wanted to be was where I was
When I had nothing
(Good night, good night, good night)
When leisure and business were two separate words
I can't go back

And I have so much money, I don't even know what I want it for
Spend it all, I want to see myself back at zero
The first checks, the first zeros, the first leathers
Of my generation, I was the first

I don't even sleep if I'm not on the island
I'm in Miami making zeros and, when not, making a cruise album
I need to lose everything to go back to zero
And remember what it cost to get out of the hole

Goosebumps while recording 'Piel de Cordero'
I need to fall in love with all this shit again
And, without need, I can't
If it's not out of necessity, I don't move
I need to go to Los Brezos and see my clothes on the floor

See myself playing at being a rapper and reggaeton artist
Beer bottles as ashtrays, the light cut off and the worker's helmet
Now, everything that happens, I expect it
And I'm the same with thirty million as with zero

And it doesn't surprise me, that's why they hate me
Because I don't care if they see me vulnerable
I don't care what the rest say
The more ruin I have and the more unstable I feel
The more untouchable I feel, I was born blessed
I want to stay at zero, with zero I'm still the chosen one
I feel fleeting, on the island I'm The Protected
God guides me every time I'm lost

And Gonza, I love you, but I don't even want the Grammy
I sing because it hurts, not to get an award
Fame and all that shit, that's temporary
This is LPGC from La Isleta to El Calero

Spinning in the two-door, the hollow soul
With the LVs that haven't come out, they look fake
Just arrived from MEX, bro, the truth
I have no goals anymore, I'm going to sell my lyrics

I filled all the arenas, bought ten chains
But neither the sold out shows nor the VVS in white gold complete me
Not the red carpets nor the formal suits
They can't look at me discreetly

They don't see that, on the left side, I have a crack
Everyone sees that it hurts me, but they still squeeze me
Almost no one likes me, they want my notebook
Almost no one likes me, they want my card