[Intro]
Yeah
Raise up my voice in my headphones, a little bit
Ah, yeah
Ah, ah
Marracash, Crookers, and Nic Sarno
It was better when social media didn't exist, sure you were jerks just like now, but at least we didn't know it
Yeah

[Verse]
Ah
It's raining money, God's sending it
It's coming from Heaven like manna
This beat is so fucking hard
I focus on my lyrics, Kendrick LaMarra
With a turban and a scimitar, I've got the Sharingan for stupidity
You have it written on your forehead like Gemitaiz
Shoutout to Gemitaiz, I say obscenities
Look at me, I've flown high
Yeah, four Forums in just onе tour
Even the Arena, just likе Ben-Hur
What will be left of you, besides your looks?
If I take my iron, like Tiger Woods
I will turn your SUV into a golf course
She's obsessed with healthy food
Inside her pussy I put my topinambur
Ooh, I'd deserve the Tenco prize
'Cause of the fucking talent that I have
Like if I bring her inside, you hear *clap, clap, clap, clap*
Like in flamenco
I'd deserve the Strega prize, just 'cause of that song about that witch
Top of my career, she's eating her hands for dinner
I'm on a camel in Oman
With Miss Hottest Italian singer
I don't need to talk about her, 'cause she's a super G, she can take care of herself
You that have been roaring on social media, when you see me you tweet, Gigliola
Marra normally ignores you, but then the ignorance starts
I've been even getting fatter, like I ate an arena
That's true, Vane took a shit in my house (sk)
My shit, bro, shits in your chest
You challenged me, learn, you lost, you're afraid, lost
I hope you climb over the parapet
Your parachute is a youtuber
I'm a Luger Parabellum
Ooh, I rule as the absolute monarch
Ooh, with the iron fist and with the velvet glove
Under nobody, I've always been under nobody
Grate some more truffle, pop this Greco di Tufo
And let's make a toast to whoever thought I was done, over
Ah, person of the year, bro, album of the year
Ah, tie my shoes for me, I'm gonna cut the finish line
Yah, my character is that I am in no character
May 22nd, bro, Santa Rita
God what a life I'm living as a matter of fact
Marra now is a cult
They come in pilgrimage to see the tour, a godlike tour
And think that I just wanted the money, like Mahmood's father
With Beppe Sala for breakfast
Tomorrow I've got Prada fixed in the afternoon
And when the meetings are over
I smoke a joint with Vanoni
Marracash