Tempra comes from the verb "temprare," which means to temper or harden, often referring to metals or steel. It implies strengthening something through a process, making it more resilient.
In this song, Salmo uses it in a powerful, almost prayer-like context: "Tempra i nostri coltelli" (Temper our knives). It's a striking and somewhat archaic word choice that evokes a sense of preparation for battle, giving the lyrics a raw and intense edge.
Salmo opens with a list of what he sees around him: new trends, gangs, flex boys, Barbie and Ken, white sneakers, dirty hands, purple syrup. It reads like scrolling a feed, where each image is a costume somebody is wearing.
The chorus is where he draws his line. Everyone is playing at being dangerous, so he says the plainest thing he can: he is not like them, and he is not a criminal. The word "criminale" keeps returning, and the more it repeats the emptier it sounds, which is the point.
In the second verse he says what actually bothers him. Nobody cares about the music anymore. It has become a dance for TikTok, a film with no soundtrack. His complaint is not really about crime, it is about people treating a craft as a costume.
The closing section turns into a prayer, and it is the sharpest part of the song. "Forgive us, honest criminals" leads into asking a saint to bless our weapons, temper our knives and direct our bullets. Salmo borrows the shape of a religious litany to show how easily violence gets dressed up as something righteous.
This unplugged version takes the beat away and leaves the words exposed, which makes the irony harder to miss.