Paroles:
Marco S Hall

de miseria. De violencia y malos ratos Y que se gasten nuestra feria. Nadie sabe a ciencia cierta Cual es su nombre de bautizo, Pero aqui se puso marcos

ve turned into a hater, I put up a false mavado But Marshall is not an egomaniac, that's not his motto He's not a desperado, he's desperate, his thoughts

kitchen Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest tucked underneath my Michelin S I, travellin, handlin with a forty-five cannon It's tucked in my Marc

and down Life's an elevator Can't you dig the sound Swift is the kill Shadows fill the empty walls Wild is the word That engulfs love sacred halls. Life's

a pearl's shell Breathing it's breath uniquely. Nijinsky Hind was begotten From man's thoughts of kindness. Its hoofs shod with gold Are the textures of Earth's

wind blow Yeah let the chilly wind blow Down the halls that whisper names Through the walls and the picture frames It's not just old in here It's swirling

it be We never seem to see What we have until it's gone Why is it so We never know What we have until it's gone The more I try All the faster you slip

ve turned into a hater, I put up a false mavado But Marshall is not an egomaniac, that's not his motto He's not a desperado, he's desperate, his thoughts

a glock that will shock and bring the rest tucked underneath my Michelin S I, travellin, handlin with a forty-five cannon It's tucked in my Marc Buchanan