• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• la carrera - extremoduro
• La Quereria - Lifter Puller

Esta es la vida de un estudiante que estudiaba sin parar
se estaba haciendo una carrera
y no era en la universidad,
era una carrera que no tenía final.
Sus padres le preguntaban
hasta dónde vas a llegar?
y él muy tranqui, él pasaba
- hasta que ya no quede más -
y te quedan muchas venas por chutar.
Al final de la carrera
ningún titulo te van a dar,
sólo te han dado un carné
politoxicomanía total
y te quedan muchas venas por chutar.

undisclosed sources have reported that the kids look
like corpses
warped and all distorted
a summer wrecked on X and house arrest
transacting sacks to the yards from the porches
and wild horses cant carry away california divorces
copenhagen hats, skintight pinstripe blue jeans and the
bright white Nike Air Forces
the pigs came in so forcibly, they almost didn't bother
the kids were living liberally, loving all their
liberties
started out with a liberal amount
they did a bunch and cut it up and and sold
the rest of what was left to some two bit thief on the
street who did a bunch and cut it up and sold the rest
of what was left to you and me
and we thought that we were so free but it was a
chemical reaction
we thought we were experienced but we were mostly
crashing
positioned well on the right side of the sell but
everybody yells for the
guys that mix the hoods with sleeveless fashions
first there's violence then there's silence then
there's sirens first there's gunshots then there's beat
cops then there's chalk on the sidewalks then violins
first there's beer then there's shots then theres cops
then next of kin
then violins first there's violence then there's
silence then there's sirens.
he took the porches like a preacher takes the pulpit
said the nightlife is the only thing that could
possibly save us
the turntables have enslaved us the pigs have enraged
the schoolbuses are slave trains
the billboards are our bloodstains
the kids shout "halleluiah!" let the flyers be our
psalms
let the promoters be our prophets, et the sirens be our
songs
and the words came from the porches and the kids stood
just like soldiers
and every murdered raver was just dying by the hands