Song meaning of MONTECARLO by Natos y Waor, Delaossa & ILL Pekeño

Ah, "MONTECARLO," a song where the boys in the neighborhood are busy doing their laundry, but not just any laundry, they're washing away their sins! They're striking shady deals with the devil while sporting a halo on their heads, flying high in airplane mode. And oh my, they're popping champagne bottles, wearing designer clothes, and even indulging in some white powder. Talk about living the high life! These guys are so bold, they stroll into court looking sharper than your lawyer. Time may be expensive, but hey, they bid farewell in French style, knowing that everything is already paid for. As they step out of the hangar with their names engraved on a train, they casually mention they're broke and their phone credit is exhausted. They claim to be experts at being bad, and if they say they'll do something, they actually back it up. They've got that angelic-demonic combo going on, like racehorses in a stable. And hey, everything they experience is so awesome they just have to share it. Meanwhile, they're busy demolishing hotels like Charly from Monopoly, splurging on luxury brands, and well, engaging in some interesting activities in the parking lot of a discount store. They're feeling a little more normal now, not quite Gandhi level, but they're slowly discovering their refined side. They even discuss opening a hotel in the famous El Prado Museum, because apparently, Monopoly doesn't cut it for them. Ones, aerosol cans, and shopping bags from Tom Ford, what a stylish crew! They admit the night, the streets, and the road can be tough, but they find solace in the music of Hijos del Agobio and La Ruina, while sipping on codeine-infused Sprite. And then we have our protagonist who didn't sleep because of jet lag, or so he claims, but deep down, we suspect it's for other reasons. Autographs have improved his street cred, and hey, if your boyfriend wants to be a big shot, that's a definite red flag. The people around him tell him to slow down, but all his algorithm recommends are boobs. Oh, the struggles! He's his own worst enemy, indulging in today's pleasures only to regret them tomorrow. He's caught between love and hate, happiness and sobriety, unsure whether he's insane or sane in a madhouse. While others celebrate being third on the podium, he confidently takes home gold and sits at a funeral. And let's not forget our Ill Pequeño, whose ID frequently gets recognized by the police. Turns out, his brother never carried a gun, just a couple of kunai knives. In Madrid's southern hospitality industry, he's an athlete, surpassing even Rafa Nadal and his fancy tennis racket. He hates Madrid because it's an oven in the summer, but at least in the train, no one checks their tickets. Oh, the memories! From downloading questionable albums in 2006 to realizing they were actually porn, it's safe to say he's now taking it to the next level. He's a living legend, resembling Moltres as he dominates the 2-3 zone. And hey, he used to save dessert once in a while, but now it's all about indulging without restraint. Memories etched in his mind, Kanouté celebrating a goal for Palestine, and a sweet kiss for his hungry boys. They're running on fumes and pushing their cars to the limit, with music blasting at 400. Ah, the glamorous lives of these guys! Swerving between songs about sin and luxury fashion, they truly know how to keep things interesting.