Gratidão feels like Rashid’s handwritten thank-you note to the streets that raised him and to every ear that ever pressed play. Standing in Heliópolis, a place outsiders label dangerous, he trades firearms for rhyme schemes and turns the grind of selling mixtapes at sixteen into a platinum-bound mission. Between playful jabs at stereotypes and proud shout-outs to musical heroes like Cartola and Sabotage, he reminds us that rap can rescue lost souls, stack knowledge higher than money, and pump hope through a community’s veins.
The core message is simple yet powerful: gratitude fuels revolution. Rashid salutes books over bullets, liberty over labels, and dreams that refuse to snooze. He thanks the listeners—“you also share the blame for this dream coming true”—while urging everyone to shine just as his mother once told him. In the end, “Gratidão” is a celebration of using art to rewrite fate, of turning street vision into global vision, and of carrying thankfulness like a badge wherever life’s beat may drop.