Máquina Do Tempo feels like a neon-lit joyride where trap beats meet sci-fi fantasy. Matuê opens the doors to his turbo-charged lifestyle — double Rolex glinting, thick smoke swirling, whisky bottles clinking — while a relentless hook reminds us there is always more money to make. In the middle of all this excess, he drops a wild plan: building a time machine stuffed with boldo leaves so he can zip back to the 70s, light up with his future father-in-law, and rewrite anything he wants. The image is playful, but it hints at something deeper: even surrounded by luxury, he wonders what life might look like if he could tweak the past.
Under the bravado, the song flips between swagger and self-reflection. We hear unapologetic boasts about chart domination and owning ten cars, yet also jokes about love that “burns like a joint” and the risk of losing someone who might simply hang up the phone. It is a portrait of modern ambition: fast, flashy, addictive, and threaded with a quiet wish for a reset button. Matuê’s lyrics invite the listener to party hard in the present while secretly daydreaming about second chances — all to a soundtrack that refuses to slow down.