29 - Yulian

Me gusta el dinero, tengo tantas prenda parezco un joyero

Todos tus niggas me miran con celo

Ustedes son pussy midan con el hielo

Rest in peace my g disparando al cielo

Mi historia es un libro de Paulo Cohelo

Si subo pal norte llamo a Rafaelo

Siempre tamo fly con un pal de cuero

Yo estaba en piso me pare del suelo

Ello no son trap, yo nací en el ghetto

Prendimos los láser pa' tu coro entero

Hacemos música pa' jolopero

El pote de pali me tiene liviano

Todo lo que capeo de primera mano

Te tumbe la careta, los palos vibran en la mano

La música y yo vamos de la mano

No caben to lo cualto en la Ferragamo

La calle me llama y yo siempre temprano

Subiendo lo digito e que maquinamos

Me querían abajo pero demostramos

No tengo amigos mis Gs son hermanos

Le puse diamantes a mi Giorgio Milano

Me case con el trap… ramo

Me gusta el dinero, tengo tantas prenda parezco un joyero

Todos tus niggas me miran con celo

Ustedes son pussy midan con el hielo

Rest in peace my g disparando al cielo

Mi historia es un libro de Paulo Cohelo

Si subo pal norte llamo a Rafaelo

Siempre tamo fly con un pal de cuero

Yo estaba en piso me pare del suelo

Ello no son trap, yo nací en el ghetto

Prendimos los láser pa' tu coro entero

Hacemos música pa' jolopero

I like money, I have so many clothes I look like a jeweler

All your niggas look at me jealously

You are pussy measure with the ice

Rest in peace my g shooting at the sky

My story is a book by Paulo Cohelo

If I go north I call Rafaelo

I always tamo fly with a leather pal

I was on the floor I got off the ground

They are not trap, I was born in the ghetto

We turned on the lasers for your entire choir

We make music for jolopero

The pot of pali has me light

Everything I weather first hand

I knocked your mask over, the sticks vibrate in your hand

Music and I go hand in hand

They don't fit all that in the Ferragamo

The street calls me and I am always early

Uploading the digit and that we scheme

They wanted me down but we proved

I have no friends my Gs are brothers

I put diamonds on my Giorgio Milano

I married the trap… bouquet

I like money, I have so many clothes I look like a jeweler

All your niggas look at me jealously

You are pussy measure with the ice

Rest in peace my g shooting at the sky

My story is a book by Paulo Cohelo

If I go north I call Rafaelo

I always tamo fly with a leather pal

I was on the floor I got off the ground

They are not trap, I was born in the ghetto

We turned on the lasers for your entire choir

We make music for jolopero