Don't think we're idle, us
At noon we're working, ocho
Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, (ooh yes)

Don't think we're idle
We're working at noon (arriba, arriba)
To touch the violet you have to make red
Oh yeah, it's a head
Does your boss make money? (oh yeah?)
We settle his account, quickly
Made on a two-wheeler, (rahh)
If I come it's for the money
(wouh)
The reaper in "i" sure on a compete (wouh)
Your new jeans are charming (strong)
We play guitar not trumpet
(wouh, wouh, wouh)
For bitches like you there
The narvalos who talk too much
I have a '9 millimeter under my suit
(pfiou, pfiou) oh yeah you play tough
You don't deserve a bullet but
Just big slaps, (yeah, yeah)
Brief jack D on the messa, (wouh)
I dream of green bills
Or a five with Messi (wouh, wouh, wouh)
Your fucked life only holds on a message
I have AK-47, I don't need to be precise
Rah, Rah favo on the field
Big you want your pay, so scream you better
Hey buddy I'm really, it's Ocho for real
I'm not these rappers that
Display on the Internet (arriba, arriba)
Hey, problem you call the 17
Problem me I draw an assault rifle
(rahh) your sister plays the coquette
There's money to be made on Asgod Street
Ocho (wouh)

Rule number 5: Never love
Love kills you, you see that?
That's a whore, we fuck a whore, we don't
Let her fuck you, if you're a guy
You don't need anything or
Anyone to succeed

Hey the day is breaking
At noon I'm already smashed under Jacky
'9 millimeter under the jacket
Ask JBinks
We don't party in the maquis
What they planned to do, we've already done
If I'm on your side in less
Than two days you're sure you're dead
Gloved I'm on the T-Max
I know very well where I'm going, Amigo
I can't lose the north
I'm going to do them all (ooh yes)
100-8, Que La Famille come to my hall
There's enough to roll a kamass (ocho)
You sting like a fucked bee
I cut like Tokarev
357 or famass (rah, rah, rah, rah)
If I pull out a glock my amigo
It's either for the family or
It's either for the khaliss (arriba, arriba)
Let's go rentalize, we come back
We aim to kill
Blue, red, we pick up
And the hagra pays
You just didn't hagal the right people
Glock on the temple to the cashier (rah, rah)
Alcohol in the t-eille
I write new text on phone (wouh)
Bring me the little ra for dessert (eh)
Now it rolls in big box
It's over the time of the last C5
(it's over) fuck love and long live the money
I remembered rule number 5 ocho

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