I make them dance 'La Pelúa'
And the one that doesn't dance, let them get their hair ripped out
Sons of b*tches, don't egg me on
Read the numbers so that you educate yourselves
I don't make songs, I make anthems so that they don't expire
In this genre I was a Hadouken
And they went extinct like the dinosaurs
Before that you turn me off, the sun goes out
We went up and broke the elevator
The prep that threw Bulbasaur at them
Now I look at them from above and from afar
I don't answer DMs, no, talk with my management
But he's also going to ignore you
I swear that I didn't mean to act like a d*ck
I hit all my crushes, shh, I'm already bored even of f*cking
And I really am milly without using Richard
Yankee is retiring and we are going to switch
I'm gonna be the boss, they're gonna sign me
My name is always going to be heard
I'm a king, champion, Booker T
Look at what I turned into
My composer award bothers them
But it's that nobody composes anymore
None of these people write in their songs, so don't get excited
The best-selling album of this f*cking year
I took them to school, everybody trying to make its sequel
They stay in line, nobody cuts in on me
Shake it, brunette, shake it
Bad Bunny took all the awards and the b*stard didn't even go
You guys paying to go viral
I'm making hits without doing promo
People ask themselves how
Since I was a kid they know how we are
I never ask for a thank you
I'm coco, you guys are bakin'
Booker T hitting me with a breaking
And I'm going to stay at my peak, b*stard
I'm a king, champion, Booker T
And I'm going to stay at my peak
Look at me, you what? you what? Nah-nah
I'm not even going to front, hit repeat, b*stard
So that you see that I'm really a son of a b*tch