4x4 (part. Omar Camacho, Angel Almaguer y $HUPE)

(Like Checo, I play in the big leagues, I'm in my own race)
(Tattoos of skulls, we’re the real deal here)

Here we go again, eight lines, four and four on the side
All bullshit, I'm stuck, this is my daily breakfast
Up close, I pop the short one, I don’t flinch and I don’t care
I just drop the code, and they abort the damn mission

I don’t get confused, I’m a deep thinker
And I know what I want, I have it all in this world
In the fair, I’m sinking, I’m no longer second
And, like the secrets of the sea, I’m the deepest

Here we go again, eight lines, four and four on the side
They’re a mix of everything, I like it washed
With ayahuasca in a temazcal, I’m deep in the jungle
Two days and I haven’t freaked out, but they’ve already figured me out

I’ll become more powerful, a Vacheron on my wrist
A Constantin so they know, they inject me with a psychosis
In the X accounts, they never censor my photos
There are the ones I don’t post on Insta because they’re too wild

The trip lasts me a week
If I went too far, I’ll pop a Xanax
Nothing bothers me now, I’m feeling brand new
Breaking in a new house and, in crypto, I’m moving

I’ve got a shark suitcase, the fin
It cost me more than your whole life
We’re not messing around, I’m in my prime, my era
Envy doesn’t rush me, here, the cash is what runs things

Like Checo, I play in the big leagues, I'm in my own race
Tattoos of skulls, we’re the real deal here
Like Checo, I play in the big leagues, I'm in my own race
Tattoos of skulls, we’re the real deal here

An AP, dipped in gold to add diamonds
Kidnapping circles, hitmen, and traffickers
In the casinos of Japan, they pay me in grams of gold
I’m on the American black list of the Treasury

Terrorist Arapeños are the ones who forge my logs
We learned to kill since we were very young
I live in the city where a bullet can kill your dreams
On the ranch, with the bosses buzzing about Los Alameños

Here we go again, eight lines, four and four on the side
It’s a Coco Chanel, with that I feel light
I hold meetings in temples, crazy with the goons
I take a hit up top, on the sword of Excalibur

My money is infinite, no number fits in the account
Well, I sell sweets, the famous M’s
I never mix in Pancho, I just count the ones that hit
I already have millionaires selling Narcan

In a four by four, I have a two for two deal
And, masked, the girls want me to take them to the room
Secret invitations and the letter on the tray
They’re from the little masked parties of the sects

Hey, the shake is here, kids
(Your buddy $HUPE)

Girls with blue popcorn and the name beside
If they give me what I want, they go shopping in London
If the plan is to make money, just say when and where
Those you hear in corridos, for me, in tough times, they respond

Snorting with girls up in the penthouse at the Ritz
Four lines of pink from the tits of an actress
Another four of white to even out the nose
She put those on her ass, it was easy to say yes

When we go up, we stop feeling shy
And now, I touch the top with all ten fingers
I’m enjoying it, because life isn’t eternal
Lose the fear of dreaming, but never let it sleep

Deals in the USA with the Chopper's bikers
In sports cars, we hit the blocks
All my people are ready for whatever
Today I might die or death might get it wrong

Here we go again, eight lines, four and four on the side
All bullshit, I'm stuck, this is my daily breakfast
Up close, I pop the short one, I don’t flinch and I don’t care
I just drop the code, and they abort the damn mission

I don’t get confused, I’m a deep thinker
And I know what I want, I have it all in this world
In the fair, I’m sinking, I’m no longer second
And, like the secrets of the sea, I’m the deepest

(Work like you’re going to live forever)
(And live like you’re going to die tomorrow)

The mind shines
Buddy Angel Almaguer
Buddy Omar
Later

Pure Rich or Dead
Your buddy Omar
Buddy Angel
Just like that, old man, fuck it