Marginal areas where evil dominates,
where it always remains, the devil in every corner,
Where you always long for something more than this cold world,
the street in our blood, since we were kids,
This is not rap shit, it doesn’t talk about anything,
This speaks of the harsh reality,
this is about survival,
We grew up surrounded by poverty, drugs and crime,
running from the police, living stressed,
dreaming that one day,
We left the neighborhood embilletaos, with an honorable job,
Stop thinking that we will die, imprison yourselves,
When the street speaks it tells the truth,
life situations that we have to face,
We try to escape from a marginal world,
where the pots are the first to speak,
gangster trafficking, robbing, they are imprisoned,
due to overdose they are buried,
I can see their mothers crying,
cursing the devil and praying for them,
I grew up in a small square,
where those who wear a badge are hated,
where the devil plays with prison,
He plays with drugs and easily he kills you,
and I regret nothing,
I was born poor, I was born without money,
what to be ashamed of,
It’s about being a snitch,
Hot neighborhoods of Seville in connection,
With cadiz with the line of conception,
Marginal zones, action zones,
We talk about reality, there is no fiction here,
In a neighborhood of purity the image of the purest,
My father in the three thousand drawings on a wall,
That already tells you what I am where I come from,
What I represent, without singing flamenco,
Cousin I am calé, I carry it inside,
I am what I am, I don’t pretend or try,
I’m a rapper from the working class neighborhoods,
Full of hustlers, full of warriors,
Full of those who lead a hard life,
who has to commit crimes or live off help,
People who work for little money,
Simply dreaming of having papers,
we return to the charge again the troops,
yours is pure chalk, ours is coca on rock
I always talk about the same thing, buaaag you scratch me,
Now listen to the authentic street and be silent,
here in the 3000 we live in ignorance,
many shootings, there are plenty of them,
The resources we have are few,
To get out of this suburb we grew up in,
We grow unstable with insecurity,
Here where we live evil predominates,
We are inside the bag of social exclusion,
Line up with the cops and their next raid,
every day smoking, on the street thinking,
how to make money without ending up stealing,
Living in the 3000s, it is more than a challenge,
Life is never easy living in the ghetto,
Q r r, it sounds here on the periphery,
the police in danger, things are serious here,
We have seen that and more, in this cold world,
the street is our blood,
since we were kids,
We are the bad rappers, if I rap bad,
Never say it because I can hit you,
In the neighborhood there are snitches with and without a badge,
innate talent, I’m a star,
Some ask God for a divine vocation,
Others say to God, they look for cocaine,
some sell drugs to be millionaires,
but few have the necessary ingenuity,
I have heard matalo many times, and not in the cinema,
I am the rapper of the birds, I go in boots,
angels have saved me,
Thank God I have rarely visited prisons,
Take my hand, I’ll help you get out,
Yes, don’t be afraid, you will survive,
dry those tears you don’t walk alone,
Raise your head because I believe in you,