Los Odiosos Ocho
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Description
Vocals: Carrion GodBle$$
Vocals: Delaossa
Vocals: EAZYBOI
Mixing Engineer: J.Moods
Producer: J.Moods
Vocals: J.Moods
Mastering: Javier Roldon
Mixing Engineer: Cass Rulz
Producer: Cass Rulz
Vocals: Cass Rulz
Producer: Mario Luciano
Vocals: Rajio
Vocals: Sanson
Vocals: Sasuke
Vocals: Space Hamm
Screenwriter: Alejandro Fajardo Covello
Screenwriter: Carlos Blas Castro Leotte
Screenwriter: Daniel Martínez de la Ossa Romero
Screenwriter: Guillermo Olavarría Muñoz
Screenwriter: Isidro Ramos Cabello
Screenwriter: Javier Carrión Padilla
Screenwriter: Jesús Romero Reyes
Screenwriter: Álvaro Gómez-Rajio Pérez
Lyrics and translation
Original
Yeah, what's up? Ajá. Uh.
Ah, shit.
Ah, ajá. De mí te dirán que soy un cabrón, pero eso ya lo sé.
No era así, pero me la di tanto que ya me cansé.
De poner la mejilla, de llevarme un croché y de verme llorando en mi cuarto gritándome: «¿Por qué? ».
Iba tan bien cuando era malo y ahora que hago el bien siento como que me abandonaron Dios y Lucifer.
Me encuentro solo junto a amigos con los que lloré.
Y así todos los días desde que se fue. Siempre faltó de todo, pero nunca fe.
Si ves que Dios no te contesta, búscame. Estoy entre cops y criminales como Busca
P. Haciendo pushups mientras escucho a Pusha T, wow.
Baby, baby, baby, ya no pinta nada aquí.
Entro yo y todos escuchando like: «Shut up, bitch». Así que pay me. Raperos y wannabes buscan un happy end, pero son mi
Happy Meal. I'm ready pa marcarte el culo con los grill.
Vaya misil llevan esos leggins.
Tú y yo tenemos que atar un deal. I feel so good, baby. No se desatan ni los tenis.
Yo ya no sorprendo por sonar tremendo.
Menudo prenda, no es de ropa lo que estoy diciendo. Me tienen miedo como Jerry Lorenzo. Ya no me lo prenso.
Hazme un ramen, que estoy tenso. En el barrio los chavales me saludan con bengalas.
Debo ser un avión, me mandan coordenadas. No son tenistas, pero pasan bolas.
Anticipadas en -metálico. Mmm, otras son fiadas.
-Voy a gastar mi patrimonio en tu anillo de matrimonio, zorra. El baile del dinero es la única coreo que a veces bailo.
Y digo a veces porque ya no va de Prada al nailon desde que me sacó del tema aquel el nerd del psycho.
Dejé los antidepresivos y me pegó tal viaje que volví al rap y salí a la calle con un táser. Conduzco mientras me la mama y dejo que trabaje.
Tanto que me llevé por delante la valla del peaje.
Loca, no armes numerito y te me pongas kie. Si quisiera oír algún grito, me quito el in-ear.
Estos meses he estado bien lowkey dejando que píen, pero hundiría par de carreras si filtro mis DMs.
Si aparezco en un evento debe verse raro.
Deberías preguntarte cuánto me estarán pagando. Ninguna funa me va a hacer dudar de cuánto valgo.
Ninguna puta me puede exigir obrar milagros. Babe, ya no sé qué hacer, no sé ni qué me pides.
Aún te recuerdo shining bajo la luz de ese cine. Te comí el coño siete jotas, llámame
Resines. Tu culo carioca siempre das lo que recibes.
A varios metros me percibes, parece una sonda. Me tiembla encima, me está culeando la onda.
Vaya canteo, mis dedos te tapan la tolva. Si no chorrea, que te llega hasta la corva.
Me encanta tu cara de zorra, puta de saloon. Atada de muñeca y talón.
Tu boca baja, cremallera de mi pantalón.
Y me la follo como cuando no cierra el cajón. Ella me gime, amante de mi perversión.
Le aprieto el clus con la mano mientras le muerdo el pezón. Está sudá como Serena después de un match ball.
Le pongo una cadena, la cuelgo como mi doll.
Un día más en la olla, bienvenido, mon frère.
Un día menos pa acabar, lost in the hell. Cave en mi hoyo y no había cofres, diamantes, tesoro.
Un mensaje del Señor: «Mantente fiel».
La cruz y esa piedra es del camino, amigo, y entiendo el calvario del profeta aquel. What the fuck, Jahvé, no me confundas con Job.
Soy del signo del diablo, el castigo de Dios. ¿Qué más queda? Cuéntame. En el infierno ya dormí.
Desierto caminé y el sol no me quemó.
Las columnas las rompí, al león ya lo maté y -aquí sigo de pie. Se eterno es el sol.
-Estoy hundido en el sofá, me siento la nariz de Luca y una mami on my lap sentá contando la viruta.
Si no me has visto hacer dinero, cállate y disfruta. Como vea a Ronaldinho gaucho cuando se la chupa.
La jugada, mi Gucci mami, Lady Gaga.
Se me trepa como Nicki, prende como una bengala. Se lo como como si alguien me lo puntuara. En la parte de atrás de un Uber
Black sonando Black Sabbath.
Ya no tengo veinte, tengo más rodaje.
Puto, yo no tengo suerte, tengo porcentaje. En esto y en aquello, meto el cuello y cuento mi homenaje.
El cuero del asiento cruje y saco el auto del garaje.
Shh, calla un segundo, ya habrá tiempo pa tu hit profundo.
Odio que hables cuando yo interrumpo. Y vamos pa Barrendero, culpa del rap y del hurto.
Ganamos por los pelos como un enfermero turco. Bulto, ¿qué coño miras?
Estoy viendo el podio de Alonso bebiendo con Midas.
Aquí en el San Pilares, yo creo que somos bigas. Sujeto tu techo y pongo el suero a la siguiente liga, yeah.
English translation
Yeah, what's up? Aha. Uhh.
Ah, shit.
Ah, huh. They will tell you that I am a bastard, but I already know that.
It wasn't like that, but I gave it so much that I got tired of it.
Of turning the cheek, of taking a crochet and seeing myself crying in my room screaming at myself: "Why? ».
I was doing so well when I was bad and now that I do good I feel like God and Lucifer abandoned me.
I find myself alone with friends with whom I cried.
And so every day since he left. He always lacked everything, but never faith.
If you see that God does not answer you, look for me. I'm between cops and criminals like Busca
Q. Doing pushups while listening to Pusha T, wow.
Baby, baby, baby, it doesn't matter here anymore.
I came in and everyone heard like: "Shut up, bitch." So pay me. Rappers and wannabes are looking for a happy ending, but they are my
Happy Meal. I'm ready to mark your ass with the grill.
What a missile those leggings are wearing.
You and I have to make a deal. I feel so good, baby. They don't even untie their tennis shoes.
I am no longer surprised by sounding tremendous.
What a garment, what I'm saying is not about clothing. They are afraid of me like Jerry Lorenzo. I don't think about it anymore.
Make me a ramen, I'm tense. In the neighborhood the kids greet me with flares.
I must be a plane, they send me coordinates. They are not tennis players, but they pass balls.
Advance in cash. Mmm, others are trustworthy.
-I'm going to spend my assets on your wedding ring, bitch. The money dance is the only choreo I sometimes dance.
And I say sometimes because I no longer go from Prada to nylon since that psycho nerd took me off the topic.
I stopped antidepressants and I got such a trip that I returned to rap and went out on the street with a taser. I drive while he sucks me and let him work.
So much so that I knocked over the toll fence.
Crazy, don't make a fuss and give me shit. If I wanted to hear a scream, I take off the in-ear.
These months I've been good lowkey letting them chirp, but I would sink a couple of races if I filter my DMs.
If I show up at an event it must look weird.
You should be wondering how much they're paying me. No funa is going to make me doubt how much I am worth.
No whore can demand that I perform miracles. Babe, I don't know what to do anymore, I don't even know what you're asking of me.
I still remember you shining under the light of that cinema. I ate your pussy seven jacks, call me
Resins. Your carioca ass always gives what you receive.
From several meters away you perceive me, it looks like a probe. It's shaking all over me, it's freaking me out.
What a song, my fingers cover your hopper. If it doesn't drip, it reaches your hips.
I love your slutty face, saloon whore. Wrist and heel tied.
Your mouth goes down, zipper on my pants.
And I fuck her like when she doesn't close the drawer. She moans to me, lover of my perversion.
I squeeze her clus with my hand while biting her nipple. She's sweating like Serena after a match ball.
I put a chain on it, I hang it like my doll.
One more day in the pot, welcome, mon frère.
One day less to finish, lost in the hell. I dug in my hole and there were no chests, no diamonds, no treasure.
A message from the Lord: "Stay faithful."
The cross and that stone are from the road, friend, and I understand the ordeal of that prophet. What the fuck, Jahvé, don't confuse me with Job.
I am of the sign of the devil, God's punishment. What else is left? Tell me. I already slept in hell.
I walked through the desert and the sun did not burn me.
I broke the columns, I already killed the lion and - here I am still standing. The sun is eternal.
-I'm buried in the sofa, I feel Luca's nose and a mommy on my lap sits counting the chip.
If you haven't seen me make money, shut up and enjoy. Like you see Ronaldinho gaucho when he sucks you off.
The move, my Gucci mommy, Lady Gaga.
It climbs on me like Nicki, it lights up like a flare. I eat it as if someone were rating it for me. In the back of an Uber
Black playing Black Sabbath.
I'm not twenty anymore, I have more shooting.
Damn, I'm not lucky, I have a percentage. In this and that, I stick my neck in and tell my tribute.
The leather of the seat creaks and I pull the car out of the garage.
Shh, be quiet for a second, there will be time for your deep hit.
I hate that you talk when I interrupt. And let's go to Sweeper, because of rap and theft.
We won by a whisker like a Turkish nurse. Bulge, what the hell are you looking at?
I'm watching Alonso's podium drinking with Midas.
Here at San Pilares, I think we are bigas. I hold your roof and put the serum to the next league, yeah.