“Scars of the Barrio”

Out here ain’t no mercy, homie, only the street,

You either get down, or you die on your feet.

Concrete jungle where the sirens don’t sleep,

Cuetes in the shadows cut the silence deep.

Mijos grow quick, can’t play, can’t dream,

Life’s a guerra, carnal, survival’s the theme.

I was just a little pato when I first gripped steel,

Hands shook for a second, then I aimed for the kill.

Pulled that cuete, left a vato on the sand,

That’s the night I stopped bein’ a boy, thought I was a man.

Didn’t feel no glory, just weight on my chest,

Learned quick in the barrio — respect comes from death.

Ain’t no lessons in books, just scars on your hand,

That’s how a vato grows up in this violent land.

⸻

Vatos on la esquina with cuetes in hand,

Future ain’t promised, just a caja or the can.

Carnales I trusted turned rata for cash,

Signed on the dotted line, sold me out fast.

The one I called brother ate comida from my plate,

But he folded like a bitch when he felt the state.

Federales at the door, perros sniffin’ my hall,

From penthouse nights to a cold concrete wall.

And my ruca? She swore she was firme for life,

Said “ride-or-die,” but bounced overnight.

Soon as the feria dried, cuenta in the red,

She ran with the shine, left me half-dead.

Closer than blood — that’s the lie they fed,

But when the cuetes went off, every “brother” just fled.

⸻

I ain’t lay down, nah, I sharpened my blade,

Turned betrayal to fuego, el diablo’s remade.

That rata I trusted, the one I called kin,

I caught him en la sombra — and I skinned his sin.

No prayers, no mercy, just sangre on the floor,

He paid with his life, can’t snitch no more.

The others that ate off my mesa in greed?

I cut ‘em like serpientes, let karma bleed.

And that ruca who dipped when the feria was gone,

Now she hides from the name that she spoke upon.

She thought she knew love, but it wasn’t for me,

She was in love with the vida, not reality.

Enemies lined up, I dropped ‘em with lead,

This barrio don’t forgive, it just counts the dead.

I fell once to the bottom, but I rose with a grin,

Now they whisper “El Diablo” — and I won’t fall again.