Oro - C-Kan, Bardero$

Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas

Como si yo fuera de oro

Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas

Todo lo compro con mis coros

Y ahora envidiame, porque yo gané, ándale

Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale

Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro

Cabron, yo me siento de oro

Mi enemigo es el amor, pero mi amigo es el dinero

Mira cómo me sacó de líos

Mi enemigo es el amor, pero mi amigo es el dinero

Y ahora todos quieren ser amigos del amigo mío

Yo nací entre problemas, yo crecí entre problemas

Wey, yo soy un problema, y ahora tú tienes un problema

Porque igual que con los premios me pasó, ¿qué pasó?

Tu chica me nominó, y adivinen quién ganó

A los 17, con la barriga vacía y las tenis rotas

Ya son más de 20, amigos que se murieron, no pagán' la cuota

Ya pasé los 30, kilos por la frontera de perico y de mota

Pero dice la chota, que todavía se me notan

Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas

Como si yo fuera de oro

Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas

Todo lo compro con mis coros

Y ahora envidiame porque yo gané, ándale

Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale

Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro

Cabron, yo me siento de oro (Ah)

Tú no perteneces aquí, por el barrio donde crecí

Crímenes que causan mis G’s, la poli' no puede salir

Libertad y desastre en mi cara, inhalando en Guadalajara

Si hablas mucho llueven las balas, sé que tu mercancía es mala

La Zorra quiere ver mas, vamos a dar, muchos se lo comen

Si ellos me quieren tirar, los espero acá, manga 'e maricones

No tienen mi puto peso y menos las barras de mis renglones

La delincuencia está ardiendo, todos lo saben, nadie interpone, wow

Lo mío es punto y aparte

Siempre voy con mis maleantes, ey

Sonido pa' traficantes

Cabron, yo me siento de o-ro

Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas

(Yeah, yeah, dame un montón de la rica)

Como si yo fuera de oro

Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas

(Rica, rica)

Todo lo compro con mis coros

Mi tía Mariela me escondía el bicarbonato (Tia)

Para que yo no cocinara lo que había en el plato (Yeah)

Ahora ya me alejé de eso, hice con Dios un pacto (Sí)

Las discográficas se me arrodillan por un trato

Yo camino por cualquier la’o, confioso y prepara’o

En cualquier barrio me respetan como un santo (El Mero mero)

Raperos que hablan de nivel, no es para tanto

Si comparan a este hijo de puta nacido en el campo

¿Quieres que te respete?

Deme respeto, mijo

Antes que me aproveche y se lo demuestre con otro disco

Mi lema siempre ha sido ser un jugador distinto (Yes)

Soy Maradona en el Azteca y la mano de Cristo

Bardero$ clicka con C-Kan, te dejan algo escrito

Sonando cutro al Buenos Airesz, Monterrey distrito

Un amante de los problemas, siempre me complico

Y si me vuelvo rico me vuelvo a mi pueblo chico

¡Te lo juro, Cristo!

Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas

Como si yo fuera de oro

Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas

Todo lo compro con mis coros

Y ahora envidiame porque yo gané, ándale

Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale

Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro

Cabron, yo me siento de oro (Ah)

Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains

As if I were gold

Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others

I buy everything with my choirs

And now envy me, because I won, come on

Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him

That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir

Bastard, I feel like gold

My enemy is love, but my friend is money

Look how he got me out of trouble

My enemy is love, but my friend is money

And now everyone wants to be friends with my friend

I was born in trouble, I grew up in trouble

Wey, I'm a problem, and now you have a problem

Because just like with the awards it happened to me, what happened?

Your girl nominated me, and guess who won

At 17, with an empty belly and broken sneakers

There are already more than 20, friends who died, they don't pay the fee

I already passed the 30, kilos by the border of perico and speck

But says the chota, that they still show me

Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains

As if I were gold

Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others

I buy everything with my choirs

And now envy me because I won, come on

Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him

That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir

Bastard, I feel like gold (Ah)

You don't belong here, because of the neighborhood where I grew up

Crimes cause my G's, the cops can't get out

Freedom and disaster in my face, inhaling in Guadalajara

If you talk too much it rains bullets, I know your merchandise is bad

The Fox wants to see more, let's give, many eat it

If they want to throw me out, I'll wait for them here, manga 'and fagots

They don't have my fucking weight and less the bars of my lines

Crime is burning, everybody knows it, nobody gets in the way, wow

Mine is full stop

I always go with my thugs, hey

Sound for traffickers

Bastard, I feel o-ro

Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains

(Yeah, yeah, give me a lot of the rich)

As if I were gold

Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others

(Rich, rich)

I buy everything with my choirs

My aunt Mariela hid the bicarbonate from me (Tia)

So that I wouldn't cook what was on the plate (Yeah)

Now I've moved away from that, I made a pact with God (Yes)

Record labels kneel on me for a deal

I walk by any side, confident and prepared

In any neighborhood they respect me like a saint (El Mero mere)

Rappers who talk about level, it's not that bad

If you compare this son of a bitch born in the country

Do you want me to respect you?

Give me respect, mijo

Before I take advantage and show it to you with another album

My motto has always been to be a different player (Yes)

I'm Maradona in the Azteca and the hand of Christ

Bardero$ clicka with C-Kan, they leave you something written

Sounding cutro al Buenos Airesz, Monterrey district

A lover of problems, I always get complicated

And if I get rich I go back to my small town

I swear to you, Christ!

Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains

As if I were gold

Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others

I buy everything with my choirs

And now envy me because I won, come on

Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him

That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir

Bastard, I feel like gold (Ah)