Hoy les traigo esta cancion que hice en honor a mi primo Stiven que en paz descanza 🙏 narrando historias reales que sucedieron en Medellin, se que puede sonar fuerte, pero hago musica que me sale del 💜 de lo que he vivido, espero les guste.
Quiero darles las gracias a todos por el recibimiento que han tenido las canciones en la plataforma, es un gusto poder compartirlas por eso les voy a dejar la letra de la cancion
LETRA
Mi Primo estuvo en la trampa y no pudo huir,
Yo oraba por mi grupo antes de dormir,
La calle no es lugar bueno a los 22
Jóvenes pobres murieron en la multitud,
Por esas raches, por esas calles,
Querían joyas y coches, gastar Armani, Fumar Gucci
Todos se creían dioses, lanzaron billetes en las noches
Nadie los hizo cambiar
Nadie los hizo cambiar
Ellos fumaron pipas con las neas del lugar,
Luego vendieron libras para poder cenar,
No pensaron que la muerte les podía llegar,
Madres sufriendo cuando estaban en el hospital
Esta historia es for real
Los negros solo corrían
pero aveces reian
pero aveces reian
Esta historia es for real
Los negros solo corrían
pero aveces reian
pero aveces reian
Mi Primo estuvo en la trampa y no pudo huir,
Yo oraba por mi grupo antes de dormir,
La calle no es lugar bueno a los 22
Jóvenes pobres murieron en la multitud,
Por esas raches, por esas calles,
Querían joyas y coches, gastar Armani, Fumar Gucci
Todos se creían dioses, lanzaron billetes en las noches
Nadie los hizo cambiar
Nadie los hizo cambiar
Quedo mal con unas cuentas y se hizo disparar
Mi primo quedo en la acera sin poderse levantar
Aun recuerdo el dolor que habia en el funeral
Espero que esta historia no se repita nunca mas
Hasta luego ❣️
------------------- English --------------------
Today I bring you this song that I made in honor of my cousin Stiven who in peace rests 🙏 narrating real stories that happened in Medellin, I know it may sound strong, but I make music that comes out of me 💜 of what I have lived, I hope you like it.
I want to thank you all for the reception that have had the songs on the platform, it is a pleasure to share them so I'll leave the lyrics of the song.
LETTER
My cousin was in the trap and he couldn't run away,
I prayed for my group before I went to sleep,
The street is not a good place at 22
Poor young men died in the crowd,
For those pills, for those streets,
They wanted jewels and cars, spending Armani, Smoking Gucci
They all thought they were gods, they threw bills in the nights
Nobody made them change
Nobody made them change
They smoked pipes with the local niggas,
Then they sold pounds so they could have dinner,
They didn't think death could come to them,
Mothers suffering when they were in the hospital
This story is for real
This niggas just ran
But sometimes they laughed
But sometimes they laughed
This story is for real
This Niggas just ran
but sometimes they laughed
but sometimes they laughed
My cousin was in the trap and couldn't run away,
I prayed for my group before I went to sleep,
The street is no good place at 22
Poor young men died in the crowd,
For those raches, for those streets,
They wanted jewels and cars, spending Armani, Smoking Gucci
They all thought they were gods, they threw bills in the nights
Nobody made them change
Nobody made them change
They got some bills wrong and they got shot
My cousin was left on the sidewalk and couldn't get up.
I still remember the pain at the funeral.
I hope this story never repeats itself again
So long ❣️