Estilo Libre Lyrics English Translation by Residente
Yes, yes, yes
One, two, three like one, two, three
Like Rondi MC, in the place to be
I’m not at my peak, but on this beat, I
Sound more real than Madrid
Releasing the clip, here comes Billy The Kid
Shooting more fire than Miami Heats
If you don’t know how to dance, do like Bruce Lee
And let yourself be carried away by the kick
This beat is like cocaine, it gets into your nose
Even the haters have it on repeat
You can’t stop eating it, like tortilla chips
I’m the gunpowder of the firecracker
I give two cups to the one who doesn’t want broth
These bastards see me pass and become more Christian than Ronaldo
I’m the killer who annihilates them, flowing through the pattern like tequila when it burns
My lines, they can’t even see my pupils
And they get lost like boy scouts without a backpack
Freestyle like Holiday
With me, gravity has no law
When my verse graffiti the entire highway
I’m the king spitting spray
I’m an MC in any format
My flow has spray paint on the shoes
And in a while, like a marital DJ Craze fight, he’s going to break the plates
The killer arrived, ki-killer, killer
Big-Big-Big Daddy Kane’s a bop that comes with it
Straight from them Brooklyn streets where they can see me at
Where it’s never easy at, that’s the world we be at
Real hitters keep the strap for any type of beef or spat
Make your head tilt back like it a BC hat
That’s where we gon’ leave you at, make them take a leaky nap
Anytime that we attack, you don’t want a piece of that
That thug mentality can be an aphrodisiac
But you’re doing too much, homie, please relax
Don’t make this animal damage you, and I will banish you
Handle you flammable like a match, I do what can to do it worse
I’ll be your man if you want, if you plan to do any unamical act
Against the intangible, you must be sniffing albino
Realize I’m a G, you just Zyjo
Realize that’s Mike, but not Dino
Simone, yeah, not Wino
Straight from them Brooklyn streets
Realize I’m a G
I rip the mic, I rip the mic, I rip the microphone and leave it scarred
Throw your hand to it all
With a flow so sick, I have a paella
If you throw reggaeton-pop, popcorn, big eater, with this collaboration, you’ll crash
You showed fang, I put a dent
Low rank, you can’t file a complaint
If you can’t handle that female camel, pass that bottle
So my dizzy pickup runs you over
You with mystic lyrics, and me with analytics
Let’s go to the homes to check the statistics
See what your rhythmic sexology leaves
And let’s see if my criticism can withstand the punch barrage
And boom, tell me who you are
Bluffing with Beretta and can’t even do kung-fu
Trucutú, that trick has been exposed a long time ago
You go in the dark, and I spread the light
Without using McGuire’s little vaccine
I throw curves that not even the amps see
Arrow, crossfire
May your helmet burn, and not calm down even if you take half a pot of Bayer
Lean back, how I kill on the track
I am the matatán from the bush, matatrack
News killer, I eat them like a snack
Like 2Pac, I kill leagues from way back
I killed in the street before crack was smoked in the street
Slaughterhouse in my area when I throw boombap
I kill on stage and ring-can like Mini Jack
I kill more aggressively than Shaq’s heel
I kill with Breezy’s philosophy, take it easy
You throw softer than Missy
I stroll you around, and you end up dizzy
With the real Big Daddy, we’re here very busy
I am the matatán, matatrack
Slaughterhouse in my area when I throw boombap
I am the matatán, matatrack
Slaughterhouse in my area when I throw boombap
I am the matatán, matatrack
Slaughterhouse in my area when I throw boombap
When I throw—
When I-I-throw
I-I-throw boombap