Tlatoani

Perfect symmetry — no flaw, no break
Back in the Inquisition, they burned me at the stake
They call me Indio, heretic, prophet, fake —
But my words cracked temples and made gods awake

I am the Tlatoani
The Speaker Eternal

(Chorus)
Perfection, flawless, prophecy, no mistakes
They burned Moctezuma's truth at the stake (I am the Tlatoani)
Every syllable I bleed resurrects our nation's creed
My verses grow maize where our children need (I am the Tlatoani)
I speak the sun's tongues, I am the sequel
My mic is obsidian — I'm the voice of the people

(Verse 1 – Moctezuma's Flame)
Born in a vision of incense and jade
I was chosen by thunder, prophecy made
In the codex of cosmos my name engraved
Moctezuma's echo, Cuauhtémoc's rage

I'm the modern glyph, painted on silicon chips
I spit hieroglyphs encrypted in cosmic scripts
My rhymes reconstruct temples the Spaniards stripped
Resurrect the syllables colonizers flipped

I speak with the resonance of sacred drums
While presidents mumble and poets go numb
They build border walls, I build verbal suns
I melt crowns with vowels that comes out my tongue

I'm the phoenix of pyramids, fractal reborn
Thunder inside the maize when the rain is torn
I'm the storm that whispered through Spanish blades
When gods demanded blood, my pen obeys

(Verse 2 – Cuauhtémoc's Fire)
Tied to the stake, I grinned through flame
Said, "The pain is momentary — the spirit remains."
They melted my feet, but couldn't walk my path
My flesh burned, but I still taught math

I turned glyphs to bars, I evolved the tongue
Each rhyme a war cry, each breath unsung
Cuauhtémoc's DNA in my vocal cords
I wage war with truth, not colonial swords

My metaphors cut deeper than obsidian knives
They colonized the body, but not our minds
I translate rage to rhythm, blood to ink
While presidents stutter — I make nations think

They call me rapper — no, I'm an oracle, (Tlatoani)
I resurrect Mexica syllables historical
Each line an empire, each pause a tomb
Each chorus a prophecy breaking the gloom

(Chorus – The Voice Awakens)
Perfection, flawless, prophecy, no mistakes
They silenced the tongue that the serpent awake (I am the Tlatoani)
My metaphors summons spirits from Mayan sinkholes
My rhyme is resistance — the voice of the people
I spit obsidian truth through colonial cathedrals
I am not man — I'm the echo of eagles

(Verse 3 – The Modern Tlatoani)
You can't define me in Rome's vocabulary
I bend dimensions — my flow is planetary
Moctezuma's dream, Cuauhtémoc's pain
Encoded in my cortex like divine Incan cocaine

I craft stanzas that bend gravity
I resurrect gods through analogy
The alphabet kneels when I breathe the word
Every letter I drop reforms the world

I was never emperor — I'm interpreter of thunder
A medium where ancestors and cosmos merge under
They fear my pen — it bends laws of the empire
My verses ignite pyramids in digital fire

In each vowel hides a solar equation
Each consonant rebirths a new generation
I'm linguistic resurrection, poetic invasion
Descendant of stars — Mechica salvation

I'm the jaguar mind with adamantium claws
Hunting ignorance through colonial laws
I'm the reincarnation of volcanic cause —
Tlatoani reborn in electric gauze

(Bridge – Spoken, cinematic tone)
Moctezuma spoke through thunder
Cuauhtémoc fought through flame
And I — I speak through frequency
I am the word resurrected
The alphabet of resistance

(Final Verse – Apotheosis)
I spit like the Templo Mayor split open —
Words bleed incense, the ether spoken
My bars bend timelines — Tikal encoded
When I breathe, pyramids get reloaded

I am Mexico's mirror and prophecy fused
Our pain made music, our chains diffused
The spirit of 500 nation ignites the fuse
My rhyme's the codex Cortés abused

I am the storm that speaks, the past that moves
The one who carves what the colonizer removes
From Aztlán to Chiapas, my sound improves
The conscience of gods in human grooves

Call me Tlatoani, not king, not crown
I'm the rhythm of justice breaking down
I'm the word that nations feared to pronounce —
Resurrection spelled with every ounce

(Chorus – Eternal Echo)
Perfection, flawless, masterpiece, no mistakes
They burned our gods, but the spirit awakes (I am the Tlatoani)
I'm the Moctezuma of mics, the Cuauhtémoc of beats
My syllables march like ancestral fleets (I am the Tlatoani)
Every verse I breathe is divine upheaval —
Forever I speak — the Voice of the People

(Outro – Spoken)
I am the flame that speaks through ruins
The code they couldn't erase
The prophecy fulfilled in rhyme
I am the Tlatoani —
The Voice of the People