#RapSinCorteL [English translation]

[Intro]

Foyone's in the house, Uncut Rap 50,

bitch…

[Foyone]

It’s 10 years sowing now, but I don’t talk of Monsanto,

I feel inspired by war, by the one-armed of Lepanto.

My boots on the ground, I ain’t got no Lambo,

but God Almighty himself grants me this ammo.

Holy water hidden deep, the bottom of the well,

bursting with energy, striking like a thunderbolt.

These days my cough slays millionaires.

For this uncut rap I’m not alone, I brought some company

[Kase.O]

Just eight bars to prove my style,

spare me half.

I’m from Zaragoza city,

Violadores, La Cloaka and El Clan,

counting Rapsus and Sharif,

El Gordo and Juan, how many fans do we have?

I’m calling names that are world-class mains,

their fans come to the airport,

shit others only dream about.

Foyone and Scene are to lead the game,

turning into legends of the underground.

I left…

[Elio Toffana]

I’m the gun in the robber’s hands leaving the bank,

the organized attack on Carrero Blanco.

I’m the angel’s halo and the devil horns,

I’m the whores in La Casa de Campo,

I’m the dead shot in a ditch by Franco,

the son of crackheads, your massive heart attack.

Persephone, Ortega Lara, I’m the abduction,

intact traces of a velociraptor.

[Ptazeta]

I’ve figured many want it all, just to own it.

Watch out, give an inch and take a mile.

Bear in mind, for every step you might get lonelier

but stand your ground, anyhow you’ll pull it off!

Guarapo, these kids are capo wannabes,

they make it cheap, more tricks than treats.

As for me, I just do my best for these,

like Mother Santa, bringing a big sack from overseas.

[Ajax]

Ajax is getting ready, my hard living,

La bien pagá, Cigala, I came to change, Dybala.

Ajax has the hots, he’s flying with layovers,

landing on red carpet, photocall, suit on.

Firing bullets they found troubles,

I like the shackles better than your face,

it hits you bang and boom!

Things are clear, pricey rooms,

masks removed, shape ain’t so good.

This is a gypsy wedding!

[Spok]

I need these X-Men to make up a cypher.

Your actions are fake like the baby in American Sniper.

The beat and I are cousins like McGrady and Carter.

I had the chills walking the red carpet.

Foyone, Sceno, gorgonites like Archer.

Drinking Postobon and discussing Montser Rancher.

Bearing a heart filled with patches

but caring for my reason’s taste

like any books by Taschen.

[Cráneo]

I don’t walk like they are walking.

Filling up the serotonin bar.

Stumbling down the boulevard,

I light it up and everything gets bright.

I was born to fly, can’t help it,

outrunning issues through the back door.

I wanna be immortal,

do my thing and hand it to ya, that’s it.

[Bejo]

He’s stepping right in, at the rightest time,

like milk Pascual in the Taj Mahal.

Call him white, he’s wanted day and night,

they speak of such and such but it’s not so much.

I’m the daddy tho I ain’t got any kids yet.

Take the pencil, I’ll correct you right now.

Someone said this is like Rap contra el racismo

but thats’ wrong brother, it’s Foyone and his officials.

• Artist:FOYONE