Mafia, the creator, man.
I'm waiting,
give me a back so they can split up.
Surel,
they'll shoot for sure,
they're all black.
I swear I don't recognize you if I see you in the mirror.
I hope you don't hide where we look for you.
Because I represent danger where we can't find you.
A kid in a briefcase, maybe I'll make a riot.
I'll block the mutton,
black-mouthed in the trimming.
I'll bring a flood without you getting clouded.
Now I only act because this is tablao.
I brought it for commission, low in its size.
Composing it of gold to win medals.
The kids are always so active to burn the mesh.
And they predict the future as if they were Maya.
I no longer make excuses, the muse is guilty.
I'm a mafia,
the creator, man.
I'm waiting,
give me a back so they can split up.
I hope you don't hide where we look for you.