We started in the Banks, I saw them turn their jackets Time goes by, I see what's left, and it hurts, it hurts We started in the Banks, I saw them turn their jackets Time goes by, I see what's left, and it hurts, it hurts Mom told me, don't turn around or you'll fall Today I have projects, yesterday I didn't see more far than my nose Yeah I can hit you in the street because every day I put my feet in it The keffies hit because they know that the little 15-year-old takes more blows than Yeah, yeah, Mademoiselle you're too beautiful, you're too charming, you're pretty A girl like you in our cities, it's like water all night You, I see that it's not the case, in any case, I hope my pretty I'm a little French of the head with blue eyes with an impolite gram Every day I wake up by the gyro, no I won't say the blasts But every day I see two, three, four, I go At the check, it's installed, and the hit, but not that of Agüero It doesn't disappoint, like in football, I can say that there are a lot of adherents I have the manga with the mic, my flows take turns Smile rises since after the punch no longer comes the storm And if one day I lose, they'll tell me that I've changed When I didn't have a buddy, we were two strangers We started in the Benz, I saw them turn their jackets Time goes by, I see what's left, and it hurts, it hurts We started in the Benz, I saw them turn their jackets Time goes by, I see what's left, and it hurts, it hurts Yeah, yeah, hey, in the neighborhood you only put carnations Nobody knows where you are in 9-3 or in Punta Cana You invested on a Vespa, at my place it's a bar in the ditch A bit like in the streets of Atlanta We don't know what he's doing tomorrow, so we want the profits The big ones hang out at the cafe, the little ones tear off handbags I hang out with the so-called desperate Madam, I have friends who do dirty so that Madrid can pay the rent Life, it opens doors, it can open dirty asses You took a good ticket, I'm sure it was a shot And the pro blames, I don't want that anymore But I'm from the street, the real one, a bit like my guy Meda Penda For field history, it's war, like in Vikings Either you work or you sleep, buddy, there are no enigmas And when I'm not at home, I feel like a stranger And if there's a war tomorrow, I know who is in my trench We started in the Bengs, I saw their jackets go back I see what's left of the past, and it hurts, it hurts We started in the Bengs, I saw their jackets go back I see what's left of the past, and it hurts, it hurts We started in the Bengs, I saw their jackets go back I see what's left of the past, and it hurts It hurts