Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
From benches to leather seats by Benz
Black Mercedes moves at night
Noises in sgamated calls we speak backwards
We pass the checkpoint speeding
And no fra' I don't want to end up on a truck
Register 'is stuff in a hurry
Names marked on the notepad
Half a pound hidden inside the Foot Locker bag
And the fresh in your pocket
BillionHeadz, frà, controls the square
If rap were a car I would be a Mercedes
If rap were a car you would be a Panda
We pass in the middle of the buildings people look downstairs
People look downstairs
There was that black Mercedes in the street
I said to myself 'one day I'll make it too'
And it's not thanks to God, no, ask Vito
I pray to the Christ of Rio to remain clean
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
In the way, in the way, in the way
I have a red Ralph Lauren jersey
A pig costs me a lot
Frà, my slut brings me respect
Tedua! At home I send you with new rhymes
I don't watch TV, I don't have a set-top box
You are mingherlino, you eat minestrone
You see mine around, you change direction
Go shelter from scuffles in the evening
Flow French verlan, cedesMer Black
Overindulged at meals we are well served
We arrive at the party we are well dressed
Kisses kisses, muah muah, fuck
Capi zarri, the scene at the top, step by the boys is Formula 1
Those of cube-shaped buildings
We don't do the crash test
If there is Vito on the car
The tachometer hand does not count the kilos we have brought
There was that black Mercedes in the street
I said to myself 'one day I'll make it too'
And it's not thanks to God, no, ask Vito
I pray to the Christ of Rio to remain clean
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street
In the way, in the way, in the way
The agent looks downstairs if I pass over my Mercedes
Handcuffs that slit, biscuit, I throw them on 147
Bastard chasing, never hurting like lard at dinners
Bombardo at live shows not to show me
So now you can make me saws
I'm with Bandanas, gathered between black capsules
And between cars it's true, no chatter, baybe
The chatter counts to those who drink them
If I'm falling from above maybe it's because I'm in it
Even the Magic Child grows up
Who comes out of the tragic limbo
Mere mortals pay for it
Negro fai che c'ho l'assetto
For 'sta stuff you'll see just in a year
For drugs I lost much more than your respect
My glory as I pull dry on the trigger at 190
But-but-but put that here you live
The signs omit them or condemns
Ride on the black Mercedes in the street