[Intro]
"Man, we're still talking about Ensi? He hasn't even made a gold record, he's only good at freestyle, guys."
"Who, guys, Ensi? Come on, he's not doing any money no more."
Yeah
"What does he say in his album though, album of the year? Yes, in 2005 maybe!"

[Verse 1]
Which is the album of the year? You wonder who's the best
What year, now that a year is one season long
You say: "Winter is coming", I already have my new Timbo
You'll need more ice, I've made two-zero-one-nine hot
I'll make a toast, the weed is big when I grind, like cortisone
If there was a prize for bars
I, since I'm the baddest, would, like, win the Nobel
Like, when I accept it who knows about this shit applaude and start crying
I support the newest, fuck the clichès
In the neighborhood I'm not Michele's son anymore, I'm Vincent's father now
I still have got a few obsessions
To accord mind and heart
And to play to the rules of business
To tear apart words, to do things never seen before
To pick a side when it is sad outside

[Bridge 1]
This shit is rap
This assholes didn't understand a thing
[Verse 2]
It's always the case to repeat it
Don't confuse this shit with songwriting
I don't sing, I don't play, I don't have a guitar
I've only balls, only pathos
Only breath and fire in every bar
I keep calm before I die
Flow de la Hoya
Since the days when in the clubs there was Thoing Thoia
Since the first day I've never took a shortcut in this bitch of a life
And this bitches ain't loyal
How boring, they're all the same
You're looking for Clash, bro, what a joy
You think I'm talking to you, bro, what do you want, ah
If you want to be on my dick you'll have to climb this sequoia
No contest

[Bridge 2]
Ensi, Ensi, Ensi
Take the mic
Let them see what it really is an MC
If this shit is what you want
Let me hear how many of you there are

[Verse 3]
Bro, I don't know who you are, you weren't here last month
You wanna be Tory Lanez, I am Torinese
"Yes, but you're in Milan, living the high life"
Yes, but I still say "Fuck", I don't say "Cunt"
I've a little bit of a team, just right for the streets
Watch your mouth, hate is on the streets
This country has voted with guts
In fact look it makes you want to take a shit
I spit flow at human-eye level
Ra-ta-ta-ta like a Kalash
Weapons free since the time when in the Matata I had the old Malas
I swim on my back in this game between piranhas, sharks and ratas
I am always like curfew, bro, I send you home
From '85 like Tommy Hilfiger
You say: "I don't get it", I say: "You can't get it"
These kids are waiting for new sneakers
As I waited for a sequel from Sangue Misto