
Bryan David Castro Sosa, better known as Ryan Castro, is a Colombian rapper, singer, and songwriter born in 1994 in Bello, Antioquia. Rising from humble beginnings in the Pedregal neighborhood of Medellín, Ryan started his music journey singing on buses and performing at local venues before gaining widespread recognition.
His signature blend of reggaeton and Latin hip hop has brought hits like "Mujeriego," "Jordan," and "Quema" to international charts, with notable collaborations alongside artists such as Feid, Karol G, and Peso Pluma. Signed with Sony Music Latin, Ryan Castro continues to be a leading voice in Latin America's new generation of music stars, captivating audiences with his energetic style and authentic storytelling.
This song is a pure party anthem for a Colombian national football team game day! Ryan Castro makes it clear that when "La Sele" (the national team) is playing, everything else stops. He tells everyone, "Mami, prenda la radio, encienda la tele / Y no me molesten que hoy juega La Sele" (Mom, turn on the radio, turn on the TV / And don't bother me because 'La Sele' is playing today). The whole vibe is about community celebration: closing off the street, bringing out the TV, and getting the neighbors together for a day of "fútbol, fiesta y reggaetón" (football, party, and reggaeton).
What's really fun is how he mixes the excitement of the match with classic reggaeton flirting. He uses football slang as a double-meaning, telling a girl, "Poneme titular, mamacita, que yo soy buen jugador" (Put me in the starting lineup, baby, 'cause I'm a good player). The track even includes real-sounding sports commentary, making you feel like you're right there in the middle of the action. It's a celebration of national pride, referencing the team's yellow jersey in a clever nod to another Colombian star: "Si Juanes tenía la camisa negra, pues yo la tengo amarilla" (If Juanes had the black shirt, well, I have the yellow one).
"MENTIRA" is a reggaeton duet between Ryan Castro and Feid about a relationship that turned out to be built on lies. The title itself means "lie," and the singer keeps circling back to it: the distance she asked for, the routine she blamed, the love she promised, none of it was real.
The verses lay out the damage. He was on tour while she was hiding something. She kept saying the relationship died from routine, but he realizes the real reason was that she was unfaithful. By the second half he switches from hurt to bitterness, telling her to keep the Ducati and the diamonds and admitting he still can't stop thinking about her.
The hook, "no me falles, por favor," begs her not to fail him again, even while he already knows the truth. It's a song about wanting someone back and knowing better at the same time, a very reggaeton kind of contradiction.
Get ready for a track that's all about pure, unfiltered attraction! Colombian artist Ryan Castro teams up with Peso Pluma for "QUEMA," a song that describes a woman who is so captivating she's like fire. The chorus says she has "Ojitos chiquiticos / Mirada que enamora" (Little eyes / A look that makes you fall in love) and a "cuerpo que es candela y que te quema, quema" (a body that's fire and that burns you, burns you). It's a classic reggaeton theme, celebrating a powerful and beautiful woman.
But there's a clever twist. The song plays with the word "quema" (burns). After describing how hot she is, the singer says "Lo que yo no sabía es que ella quema, quema" (What I didn't know is that she smokes, smokes). The lyrics are incredibly direct about the physical relationship, with lines like "El que tú llamas si quieres sexo" (The one you call if you want sex). It's a song about intense desire and a private, no-limits connection, where the rule is "esta noche no hay videos ni fotos" (tonight there are no videos or photos).
Get ready to dance! In his hit song "Mujeriego," Colombian artist Ryan Castro throws a party and puts his own lifestyle at the center of it. The title itself means "womanizer" or "player," and Castro doesn't shy away from this label. Right from the start, he proudly sings, "soy un mujeriego / y yo nunca lo niego" (I'm a womanizer / and I never deny it). He playfully blames his ways on "the street, money, and alcohol" and even asks God for forgiveness, but the song's vibe is purely celebratory.
Castro paints a picture of a life filled with dancing, flirting, and having fun. He describes being attracted to all types of women, from "la blanquita y la morena" (the fair-skinned and dark-skinned one) to the girl next door. The lyrics are a confident, unapologetic anthem about being a charming player who loves to take women out to dance, even if it's just for one night before saying, "chao y hasta luego" (bye and see you later). It's a fun, high-energy track made for everyone to enjoy on the dance floor.
“Oficial” by Colombian artist Ryan Castro is a playful negotiation of modern love. The singer, who admits he is “not romantic,” offers to swap his notorious “dog” persona for a loyal “cat” attitude if the woman in question wants something serious. Over a smooth reggaetón beat, he hands her the power: she can decide whether to become his official partner or keep things as a carefree one-night adventure. The tone stays flirty, cheeky, and disarmingly honest, revealing vulnerability beneath the swagger.
Amid clever wordplay and mentions of gossiping friends, Ryan owns up to past mistakes and the temptations that come with fame, yet insists the past no longer defines him. The core message centers on choice and respect—no pressure, only transparency. Whether the relationship becomes official or remains casual, he is ready to adapt. This turns “Oficial” into more than a party anthem; it becomes a lesson in consent, honesty, and personal growth wrapped in the irresistible energy of Colombian reggaetón.
"Que Mas Pues" is Ryan Castro's breakup anthem, sung by someone determined to prove he's moved on. Over a bouncing urbano beat, he tells his ex he's already forgotten her, even though she's now with someone else, and boasts that he already has three women to match her one.
The verses look back at the relationship with more bite than nostalgia. He remembers late nights and drunken calls asking him to sing to her, but says none of it meant what he thought it did. In the second verse he turns pointed, calling her out for chasing reputations and reinventing herself, and says his cold heart wrote this song about her.
By the end, the chorus repeats like a shrug: "Que mas pues", what else, then. The relationship is over, and he's not looking back.
This song is a tour of a wild, high-end romance in Medellín, Colombia. Ryan Castro and Feid trade verses about a woman they're completely addicted to. The whole story takes place in real neighborhoods like El Poblado and Envigado, making you feel like you're right there with them, "Bajando por Palmas de camino pa'l Pobla" [Going down Palmas avenue on the way to El Poblado]. Their relationship status is a bit of a mystery; he says, "Le compré unos panties aunque ya no es mi novia" [I bought her some panties even though she's not my girlfriend], but he's also buying her cars and is totally obsessed.
He's hooked on her style and her attitude. She wears designer clothes from Burberry to Valentino and looks good in a "trajecito de baño de Monastery" [Monastery swimsuit]. She's also described as "peligrosa como una navaja" [dangerous like a switchblade], and he loves it. He doesn't care what other people say about her, he wants all of her, not just a piece: "No quiero un canto, yo te quiero completa" [I don't want a piece, I want all of you]. The lyrics are super direct about their physical connection, leaving little to the imagination about what happens behind closed doors.
"Apodo" is Ryan Castro and Grupo Frontera splitting one complaint between them: an ex who's shrinking down what they had. The hook keeps circling back to "¿Por qué le pusiste apodo a este amor de nosotros?" [Why did you put a nickname on this love of ours?] because that's the whole argument in one line — she's calling it "casi algo", "una locura", "un polvito", "una aventura" [almost something, a bit of madness, a quickie, an adventure], four different labels for making it sound like less than it was.
He won't let the soft talk cancel out the rest either — "mi amorcito", "cariñito", "vida mía" [my darling, sweetie, my life] sat right next to "tantas veces nos comimos, es imposible que solo haya sido" [we slept together so many times, there's no way that's all it was]. When she leaves anyway, he doesn't beg, he just files it under "los amores se vienen y van, siempre vuelven como un boomerang" [loves come and go, they always come back like a boomerang] — a bet that the new nickname wears off before he does.
Ryan Castro opens this one at midnight with a bottle for company. "Las horas del reloj marcan las doce" [The hands of the clock strike twelve], he sings, thinking about an old love who still "me conoce" [knows me] and still "me mata, y me mata de dolor" [kills me, and kills me with pain]. He gave everything to make it last, and now she looks straight through him: "Mírame a la cara y dime que no me conoces" [Look me in the face and tell me you don't know me].
Then the song does something salsa loves to do with a broken heart: it turns the wound into a toast. "Esta canción va dedicada" [This song is dedicated] to, as he puts it, "Para todas esas personas que creen en el amor" [everyone who still believes in love] and got burned anyway, right before the beat opens up into full salsa and Ryan yells "¡Salsa!" like he's starting a party instead of ending one. From there the record flips: he's single, he's making money, and Cupid can forget it, "Cupido ya no me acecha, no tiene flechas" [Cupid doesn't stalk me anymore, he's out of arrows]. It closes the way a lot of collab tracks do, with everyone shouting their own name into the mic: he made her "una canción con la receta de COQE" [a song with COQE's recipe], gives a shoutout to "Kapo del más buscado" [Kapo, the most wanted], and hands the last word to his featured singer with one line, "¡La ETERNA!" [The eternal one!], which is her name as much as it is a boast.
Get ready for a classic reggaetón track! In "Avemaría," Colombian artist Ryan Castro paints a picture of life in the barrio (neighborhood). He talks about making money for a better future while dealing with street problems, exclaiming "avemaría"—a common Colombian phrase similar to "Oh my God!". The lyrics suggest a world where you call on your friends (bandidos), not the police, and rely on a guardian angel to watch over you.
But it's not all serious! The song quickly shifts to the dance floor, where he meets a captivating woman. She moves to the beat of the drums, and they share an instant connection while dancing. He boasts that she's with him now, and they keep their relationship secret because she doesn't trust anyone. It's a story of street life, ambition, and a fiery romance that starts with a simple dance.
Ryan Castro opens by planting his flag: "Desde Envigado, el pueblo de Pablo, cabrón" [From Envigado, Pablo's town, damn it], a nod to his hometown just outside Medellín, best known as Pablo Escobar's old base. From there it turns into one long, loud party. He brags about the cars, "Tantas Mercedes que parece Alemania" [So many Mercedes it looks like Germany], and gets explicit fast, repeating the hook "Ella quiere un perreíto sucio, nasty-na'" [She wants a dirty twerk, nasty-na'] like it's the only rule of the night.
Arcángel shows up near the end trading bars with Ryan's crew, "Dímelo Flow, óyete este flow" [Tell me, Flow, listen to this flow], before the song closes out shouting out Puerto Rico's "La Calma Suite" the same way it opened shouting out Envigado. It isn't really about anything beyond where it's from and who showed up: Bottega, Gucci and Louboutin get name-dropped right next to Medellín slang like "chimbas" and "corillo". Subtlety was never the point. It's a flex from start to finish, and it knows it.
Quizás is a bittersweet confession wrapped in a reggaeton groove. Ryan Castro and his crew look back on a fling that started as a light-hearted game of boosting each other’s ego and quickly exploded into daring escapades ‘like Bonnie and Clyde.’ Between freestyle verses whispered in bed, forbidden meet-ups, and shots drained from a cup, the relationship feels chimba—Colombian slang for “awesome.”
But the chorus keeps tugging at a harsh truth: “Maybe you weren’t for me, and maybe that’s why I left.” Under the swagger sits real vulnerability. The narrator broke his own rules, mixed passion with feelings, and wound up the loser in love’s game. By balancing celebration and regret, the song shows learners how Spanish lyrics can pivot from bravado to heartbreak in a single breath.
FDSR is a playful yet passionate confession from Colombian hitmaker Ryan Castro, joined by Maisak, where the narrator owns up to a serious case of romantic envy. He watches the girl he wants wrapped up in someone else’s arms and can’t keep his jealousy under wraps. Between devil-emoji chats, steamy fantasies of yachts in Santa Marta, and dreams of photo-op glamour with his gold chains, he lays it all out: “Yo quisiera ser el que te besa… por una noche o una vida entera.” The song turns envy into a smooth reggaetón groove, mixing swagger, humor, and vulnerability while highlighting the tug-of-war between being a secret fling and wanting the starring role.
Dive into the track and you’ll feel the rush of forbidden desire, the frustration of playing second string, and the unstoppable confidence that says love (or at least attraction) can outshine money, fame, and even the current boyfriend. It’s a flirtatious anthem for anyone who’s ever wanted to hit skip on someone else’s relationship status and press play on their own. 🛥️🔥💋
Ever think about someone you knew when you were younger and wonder what they're like now? That's the heart of "14/20." The song is a nostalgic look back at a crush from the past, someone the singer knew since they were just fourteen. He remembers the old days, even mentioning the "tiempos De Blackberry" (Blackberry days), and has been watching her grow up on Instagram.
Now that they're both over twenty, he wants to reconnect in person. He's impressed by how she's changed and isn't shy about saying so. But it's not just a casual fling he's after. He insists, "Esto va a ser para todas la vida, bebé / No va a ser para una noche" (This is going to be for life, baby / It's not going to be for one night). He wants everyone to know she's his, mixing romantic dreams of being like Romeo and Juliet with a very direct and passionate desire to turn a teenage crush into a lifelong love.
"PLEBITA" is a flashy, fast-moving reggaeton-corrido team-up between Colombian artist Ryan Castro and Mexican corridos star Luis R Conriquez. The song is a celebration of a young woman ("plebita" is Mexican slang for a girl) who has it all: designer brands like Christian Dior and Bvlgari, a Rolex, a Polaris off-road buggy, and trips to Miami and the beach.
The lyrics move between two worlds. Ryan Castro's verses lean into reggaeton, describing luxury, nightlife, and attraction. Luis R Conriquez's section shifts into corridos storytelling, recalling meeting her in Tijuana and Rosarito and the thrill of a secret romance.
Musically it blends Ryan Castro's Medellín street style with the corrido-tumbado sound Luis R Conriquez helped popularize, pairing reggaeton rhythm with regional Mexican instrumentation. The lyrics are explicit and confident, matching the genre's bravado.
"Lejanía" means distance, and that's the whole complaint here: Ryan Castro can't stop calling a woman his even though she's nowhere near him. The chorus keeps landing on the same line — "Es un amor en la lejanía no estás conmigo y te siento mía" [It's a love stuck at a distance, you're not with me and I still feel you're mine] — repeated so often it starts to sound like he's convincing himself. The FaceTime calls that should settle him down do the opposite: "Me está llamando por FaceTime diciéndome que qué estoy haciendo" [She calls me on FaceTime asking what I'm doing], and he can't explain the jealousy over someone he barely sees. Instagram doesn't help either — "Postea una foto y yo le doy Like pero que impotencia no poderla tocar" [She posts a photo and I hit Like, but what helplessness, not being able to touch her] — a Like button standing in for a hand he can't actually reach. He eventually names the real problem out loud: "Amor a la distancia no es saludable... pero de este romance no somos culpables" [Long-distance love isn't healthy... but we're not to blame for this romance], and closes by handing her the only thing he can send across that gap: "Esta canción la hice pa' ti, pa' este amor que tenemos en la distancia" [I wrote this song for you, for this love we have across the distance].