Resident skins J Balvin in an eight-minute song

Residente, in an image of the video of the song.

It is perhaps the most ferocious attack that an artist has perpetrated on another in a song in Spanish.

We are talking about musicians of the first level of popularity: the Puerto Rican Residente, 31 Grammy Awards both alone and with his former group Calle 13;

and the Colombian J Balvin, five Grammys.

In an eight-minute song with Argentine producer and DJ Bizarrap, Residente doesn't mess around with metaphors to describe J Balvin.

Some examples: “The people fighting, they are being killed, and the guy uploads photos of Gandhi praying”;

“Liar asshole, he acts spiritual using mental health to sell a documentary”;

"He doesn't understand the values ​​of life, he has to tattoo the word 'loyalty' because he forgets it";

"He's a hair-dyed asshole who put dog-chained black women around their necks."

Residente's diatribe is divided into three chapters:

and

It is in this third part when the Puerto Rican displays his arsenal of insults to the Colombian.

The song is accompanied by a simple video showing Residente recording the piece.

Wearing a white tank top and a cap, the singer takes a sip of beer and begins his quest.

In the first part he shows himself as a Don Quixote safeguarding the honesty of urban music and against

“While I speak only as Don Quixote./ With beer foam on his mustache.

/ Waiting for these

get out of the cabin.

/ Like a sprout, before the boat sinks.

/ But as always, shit comes out.

/ I am prepared to hit these blowers until the cartridge runs out”.

Without quoting him, he already refers in this first part to J Balvin: “I don't believe in the stars of digital platforms./ Not even in your cake cream [awards]

Not even in your Instagram stories, Dolce & Gabbana and Cartier./ I only believe in my level./ And in the carbon of my pencil running over the paper”.

In the second part,

Residente vindicates himself against what he considers the urban artists to be lies: “When the hat with the R [his hat, R, for Residente] is coming, on the entire stage it begins to smell like a peasant farm./ Because these fake rappers turn chickens with my rhyme when I impose discipline like in China”.

There is no lack of criticism of

the voice modifier, and the most important instrument in current commercial pop: "

and

activated./ These fools sing even with the microphone off".

The feeling of this phase of the song is expressed near the end: “It is one thing to be an artist, another thing is to be famous”.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by René Pérez Joglar (@resident)

The last stretch is where it breaks loose.

It is introduced by a conversation.

“Is it okay like this?” asks Residente.

"If you gave Balvin, I might like him," they reply.

“No, not Balvin.

That bastard is a fool, ”says Residente first.

Three seconds pass and he adds: "Well, go ahead."

And he starts a deluge of personal attacks on J Balvin.

it is the longest phase of the song, almost four minutes.

In addition to the verses mentioned above, some of the harshest attacks are these: “One day he said he wanted to do reggaeton, being frank when he found out that Daddy Yankee was white./ My key, the worst of all and the most serious./ It's that this asshole is racist and doesn't know it./ History is going to slap you in the name of all those who picked cotton under abuse./ And another slap in the name of all those who have had to fight twice within reggaeton."

More information

Grammys, moralism and Hot Dogs: what is really behind the fight between J Balvin and Residente?

The confrontation between René Pérez Joglar

(San Juan, Puerto Rico, 44 ​​years old) and José Álvaro Osorio

(Medellín, Colombia, 36 years old) comes from afar.

J Balvin called for the awards boycott: “The Grammys don't value us, but they need us.

We give them

, but they don't give us respect.

Those who have power in the genre, none should go, that is, everyone, because we are a movement.

Residente then replied: “I would believe you about the boycott if, I don't know, last year when you were nominated 13 times you hadn't gone to the Grammys.

But there you did not ask for a boycott.

Surely you even had a change of clothes for each prize.

But as of the 13 nominations you won only one Grammy, now the boycott returns.

And he defined Balvin's music “as if it were a

cart , which many people may like or almost everyone.

But when those people want to eat well, they go to a restaurant and that restaurant is the one that earns the Michelin stars.”

Musically, Residente's new song is a hard rap adorned with Latin rhythms.

The ferocious attacks are underscored by a salsa chorus where the former Calle 13 sings: “I do this to

fun, to

fun, to have fun

.

The story of the song is preceded by a video that Residente posted yesterday on his Instagram account.

He denounced that J Balvin tried to stop his publication.

“This message is the least important thing you are going to hear today.

Much less in the middle of a war that has just broken out.

But when you mess with urban

[that's how he calls J Balvin contemptuously] these bullshit happen to you.

And he denounces: "It turns out that the asshole found out that I'm

[criticizing him] and he hasn't stopped calling everyone to call me so I don't bring it up.

They threatened to sue my label if I took it down."

And he ends: “The difference between you and me is that I am free to do whatever comes out of the balls and you are one more slave of the industry”.

Balvin's response is now awaited...

The full lyrics of the song:

- Chapter One:

I'm a little uneasy while the urban genre I keep an eye on

Peeking out like a crocodile in the Nile River

Settling a couple of pending accounts before Milo arrives

Sitting on a chair under an umbrella in camisilla

With the dog biting my shoe

Belching tortillas and buttered toast

Aiming at the horizon with a rifle without a sight

While I talk alone like Don Quixote

With beer foam on the mustache

Waiting for these hotdogs to come out the cabin

Like a bud, before they sink the boat

But as always, shit comes out

I'm prepared to give these pot blowers until the cartridge runs out

Today I knock down marketing with a jerk

How we knocked down the statues of Christopher Columbus

I break this junk

Like a rocker in the 80s smashing his guitar

With the Resi you get muddy

Even my verses turned alcoholic because there are too many bars

I come from the heat

From Trujillo the drums sound in the street, ro-po-pom-pom

No discussion, even my brother Don

He knows that in rap there is only one King Kong

Sending fire, this is White Lion, no game

As in the times of Voltio with Tego

You and I are not the same

I do not believe in the stars of digital platforms

Not even on your cake cream billboards

Not even in your stories' of Instagram, Dolce & Gabbana and Cartier

I only believe in my level

And in the charcoal of my pencil running over the paper

I do this for fun

To have fun, to have fun

Like I'm leaving right now

I'm going to take a couple before I go

- Chapter Two:

Today I fuck the fame industry

Until breaking the springs to the bed

When my words spill, I take them without pajamas

Vertical and horizontal, like in a crossword

In the tiraderas I am the terror of the terrors of this era

For these losers springs are no longer multicolored

Because where I throw a punchline the flowers stop growing.

They are fifth class artists

That write less than a pen without ink

When they see me they break down

Pale white color like the fake teeth that are put on

When the cap with the R is coming

The entire stage begins to smell like a peasant farm

'Cause these fake rappers turn into chickens

With my rhyme when I impose discipline like in China

My retina only sees heads rolling down the hill

The French Revolution with the guillotine

Burning showcases I go to all, I go to the top

With a bottle, a towel and gasoline, like in Palestine

I make it easy, like peeling tangerine peels

Comfortable, like a seat when reclining

I'm Correa, Báez and Lindor, routine double play

This is not for Instagram, this is resolved in the cabin

I kill them by tying my right and left

Singing nursery rhymes skipping rope

There is no break to lose

If I put them all in a blender, a shitty milkshake comes out.

For two minutes of song they have twenty writers

Even handlers are songwriters

Five hundred dollars for a ticket, gentlemen

For jumping like an asshole dressed in colors

Auto-Tune and playback activated

These bobo' sing even with the microphone off

You can't be the leader, champion of champions

If they wrote all your fucking songs for you

A well-done hot dog is delicious.

The problem is that these liars didn't cook it

These bums have a sweet tooth

They don't even bring the plate to the table and they take the tip from the waiter

And they're not ashamed, that's the shame

Bees make honey, but the bear eats it

You don't buy respect for being talented

It is one thing to be an artist, another thing is to be famous

Oh, you have to do some cleaning

Lots of delusions of grandeur, little skill

this only begins

And I'm still going for my first beer

I do this for fun

To have fun, to have fun

I do this for fun

To have fun, to have fun

Like I'm leaving right now

I was going to take a couple before leaving

Gabriel, 'is it okay like this?

Mmm, it's really good shit, motherfucker

But if he shoots at Balvin, it could be that I like him

No, not Balvin, bastard

That bastard is a bobolón

well give it

- Chapter Three:

I'm going to lower myself with a bobolón

Who sings to SpongeBob and Pokémon

The copy of a clone, the Logan Paul of reggaeton

This is lower than ejaculating without an erection

as they say out there

“Josesito, you don't have a street, that's why you have soft knuckles'”

With just a video I bury this calf

And I put him to upload photos with his dog

This cowardly young lamb

It's like a vegan breakfast: without eggs

The people fighting, they are killing them

And the guy uploads photos of Gandhi praying

Liar asshole, he plays the spiritual

Using mental health to sell a documentary

You are more false than a hot dog without ketchup or bread

Faker than Luian's abs

corduroy is so insecure

That he has to be announcing on Instagram how much wool he earns

Does not understand the values ​​of life

He has to tattoo the word "loyalty" because he forgets

He's a moron with hair dye

Who put black women with dog chains around their necks

A white boy who lost his way

A divine accepting his Afro-Latino award

One day he said he wanted to do reggaeton being frank

When discovering that Daddy Yankee was white

My key, the worst of all and the most serious

It's just that this asshole is racist and he doesn't know it

History is going to give you a slap in the face on behalf of all those who under abuse picked cotton

And another slap on behalf of all those who have had to battle twice within reggaeton

Myke Towers, Sech, ChocQuibTown, Rafa Pabön

Don Omar, Ozuna, Archangel, Tego Calderon

Son un montón que sin pensar metes debajo del cajón

En tu arcoíris de colores no existe el color marrón

Un sacrilegio

Este blanquito de colegio todavía no entiende el fucking privilegio

¿Pero qué esperan de este fracasado?

Criado por su papá, un influencer frustrado

En Puerto Rico para que se la dieran en el reggaetón

Tragó más leche que un condón

Por cada mamada subía un escalón

Cada día disfrazado de un color distinto como un camaleón

Lo que dijo Rubén, el Residente lo sostiene

“Aunque cambie de color, yo siempre sé por dónde viene”

Los camaleones velan por su propio ombligo

Se hacen panas hasta de sus enemigos

Nada más con el testigo

Los negocios son negocios, socio, en los negocios no hay amigos

Lo mío no es negocio, somos diferentes

Por la música yo pongo el corazón al frente

Mis billboard los sostiene la gente

Next to my letters on each banner to bring down a president

I'm not the most famous of the whole circuit

But I split your favorite rapper in twenty

What I said in "Calma Pueblo" I repeat

With me they eat even if they have no appetite

I'm not doing this to give you advice.

Not even to abuse you even if it's uneven

Today I skin you

So that those who buy the hot dog shirt feel good assholes.

This is for the kids

For the respect that everyone who writes deserves

The Formula 1 are tourist, they no longer run

'Cause I just broke the track, ah