LEARN LYRICS

Don't treat me like I'm a devil

Because I can't grant you miracles

There're so many problems that I rode

that some, for sure, stayed in me

That's how it sounds

His homie, the dude

Pure corridito

In the shadows I move, stealth mode drives me

I have an angel that watches over me and doesn't break

that lights me and accompanies me there in the fog, no

Truth is, something dies inside when you walk away

I need that the pain disappear

They come up to me and try to cloud me

But no

Nor am I a saint

Nor paint me like I were a devil

Because I can't grant you miracles

There're so many problems that I rode

that some, for sure, stayed in me

From Graná to Guadalajara

Truth is sold expensive

And lies do shoot

There's no vest for those bullets

It sounds interesting

Luxuries and diamonds

I'd trade it all so that it went back to how it was before

Truth is, something dies inside when you walk away

I need that the pain disappear

They come up to me and try to cloud me

But no

Nor am I a saint

Nor paint me like I were a devil

Because I can't grant you miracles

There're so many problems that I rode

that some, for sure, stayed in me

Spain, Mexico, Madrid

Graná, Guadalajara

Go ahead