I look at me just a few years ago
I'll start from the point when I stopped studying
As my mother would have wanted
I go back to my thirteen years
Fourteen, fifteen years old
On the ladders done on the street with the older ones
Yes antisocial means, means dealing, half dealing
Names in the newspapers, half done, half at funerals
Slaps from a father, grams to give
Fatality for kids, get busy
From doing to getting hurt
Staying with the older ones
Reunited with all the other peers
That ironic fate that crossed us
Different stories but same cracks
Alone in the neighborhood
A few months and I was only thinking about thefts and not getting drunk
We just wanted what so many had
And I was the son of those who spit on others, on where you eat
And the people watching us in the area
He judged us without thinking about what
And everyone was missing at home and now you know that
That I would never have wanted everything I experienced for myself
The feeling we get from feeling bad, what do you know about me
And the people who look at you don't know what you do for yourself
May God bless my life if deep down I'm still me
We were little sons, but sons of a whore
On the street everyone was told, in fact, the story was told
We who have not even a test on the benches
Test bench, never miss school
Yes we wanted more, just the dreams that no one has
The five of us alone out and about, on scooters until the morning
What seventeen, those who were there always say so
If taken and spent, we weigh from ounces to kilos in two months
Normal kids, pieces cut, half escaped
With stolen vehicles to make trouble on the appropriate means
But how many ruined vehicles
Half dead the others half changed
That I would never have wanted everything I experienced for myself
The feeling we get from feeling bad, what do you know about me
And the people who look at you don't know what you do for yourself
May God bless my life if deep down I'm still me
I didn't stop but I saw faces in crisis
Friends seen changes in a year
Among the few left from the first steps to die is enough
Every month I moved house dreaming I would make it
Drug dealers to be robbed
To the boss of drug dealers
From one branch to smaller branches
You saw the fruits it bears
The money you throw away afterwards
I just wanted myself above all
But everything changed between those left on the ground and those left on the street
The love lost because I didn't say enough
My mother who couldn't even look me in the face anymore
I wanted to make a name for myself among those who spat in my face
Among friends for convenience because you are someone
It is convenient for someone to have some knowledge
They call you friend because without you they are without you
They will end the relationship the first day you are without them
And you get lost over time, today everything is different
And there isn't even half a child left on our wall
I watch these new guys here being pushers but for half an hour
And after a year on the street he talks about the street, but he lives downtown
Today they talk here, they boast, yes they deal outside
With the fridge full, the father at his side but they don't ask themselves
Whoever placed the first packages in your hand first
That if they talk about the road but the why before these
For those who were on the street with no other way
Being with those who later grew up and died on the same path
I speak to those who come later, to the few who know how to listen
I say few repay, too many rest in peace
That I would never have wanted everything I experienced for myself
The feeling we get from feeling bad, what do you know about me
And the people who look at you don't know what you do for yourself
May God bless my life if deep down I'm still me
That I would never have wanted everything I experienced for myself
The feeling we get from feeling bad, what do you know about me
And the people who look at you don't know what you do for yourself
May God bless my life if deep down I'm still me