Cosa Nuestra feels like being handed a private invitation to Rauw Alejandro’s inner circle. With the mantra “Esto es cosa nuestra, no creo que lo entiendan,” the Puerto Rican star lays down a secret code: outsiders will never get the full story. Over lively salsa horns and percussion, he mourns a love that burned fast and left a long shadow, borrowing Neruda’s idea that “love is short and forgetting is long.” Memories drift in and out “como las hojas y el viento,” and every time he hears her name, the wound reopens.
At the same time, Rauw keeps one eye on the streets. Surrounded by his “bandoleros,” he makes deals, counts money, and watches rivals while hopping from bed to bed in a search that never satisfies. This clash of tenderness and toughness captures the dual heartbeat of Caribbean urban life: romance and danger dancing side by side. Beneath the irresistible groove, the song whispers that some stories stay locked behind closed doors, understood only by those who share the code—la cosa nuestra.