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In my old days, My friends and I did a lot of damage, Competition of stolen cars, Thefts, Aggravated thefts, Policemen behind us, Unsuccessful shots, Escapes against hand, We played with them with a honda vti, Me and the my troops with the pistols with the pussies and stoners of the balls that we burned, With the clothes and the chips that we stole, Bullets the sons of bitches of the policemen, Bullets at us they fired, With the fear that we we had the car running, Much more than what it marked, The pointer broke, The redline atrophied, There was smoke coming out, From the exhaust pipes and hooks, What were they carrying behind, Zé francisco at the wheel, They cursed us inside the car my ghetto, Bruno Semedo wasn't afraid either, Of ​​those sons of a whore who tried to end our lives