Penning a more-than-seven-minute-long song about depression, death, censorship and more, Residente dropped his most intimate and personal song yet coined after his birth name “René.”
The “therapeutic” single was born two years ago, he told Billboard, shedding light on his self-discovery process.
“I had a lot of situations happening at the moment. I had a stadium full of people waiting for me to perform in Mexico] and I didn’t want to go out. Not because I’m an a–hole, but because I was feeling bad. I had never felt like that in my life.” After talking to his mom over the phone, he went on to perform. “The next day, I started writing and it was good for me.”
The heartfelt song and music video, released during his birthday week on Feb. 27, received feedback from his colleagues such as Bad Bunny, Kany Garcia and Karol G, relating to his raw and honest lyrics.
“René” is Residente’s first single of the year, which will be included on his forthcoming album dropping later this year.
Read the powerful lyrics translated to English below.
Rene, come, let’s study
I’m going to ask a question and you answer it
With what part of the body did the Taíno Indians play ball?
Rene, answer me, it’s easy
Pay attention to me, pay attention to me, look at me
With what part of the body did the Taíno Indians play ball?
I know, I’ll sing it to you and you’ll learn it
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and ….
Since I was little I wanted to be a baseball player, I never made it
So I learned to create hits on top of a track
I drank alcohol again in my office
I write well sober but I write better drunk
When I fall into depression, I tell my problems to the window of the plane
Stress has me sick, I haven’t slept in 10 years
The IRS continues to investigate me
I’m getting a divorce but it doesn’t matter, I continue rhyming
I make mistakes but I do what I can
I learned how to land without wheels and
Even if they recognize me in the streets, my friends don’t know me anymore
I’m sad and I laugh
The concert is full but I’m empty
Everything in the music industry is a lie
My son has to eat so I continue touring
I only have what I have left
I don’t know where I’m going but I know where I come from
I was raised with my friend Christopher
We threw rocks together and broke a couple of windows
We ran around the streets without a shirt on, rode bike on the lots of Trujillo
The bike above the mud, with a plastic cup in the rubber to sound like a car
We recharged batteries with Indian malt and garlic bread, no one could stop us
We were inseparable until one day, four cops killed him
My happiness is shattered, the lights turned off in the baseball field
There is almost no one left here
Sometimes I don’t want to be here
I feel alone here, in the middle of the party
I want to be where no one can bother me
Burn my notebook, let go of my luggage
I want to call 755-0822 to see who answers
The arguments with my stepdad when he would lose control
Would get resolved by watching a baseball game with him
He invited me to fight a couple of times
I would escape the house a couple of times
But we always had food
He defended us by playing music at weddings
Sometimes cooked, sometimes can foods and microwave
We shared everything, the table was round
Lower-middle class, we were never “owners”
The bank loan would steal our dream
The bank account was empty but mom would make our day dancing flamenco
She quit acting to take care of the four of us
And turned us into her theater show
She would wear our boots
And her life became our achievements and our failures
Our stepdad left with other fishes
We moved out of Calle 13
I went to look for luck in a sea of straws
And I packed my entire life in a box
I got a scholarship at the school of art
They killed half of my friends
I began to rap again, I began to create again
I came back, I released an album, I ate the whole world in a bite
They fired people in Puerto Rico, I insulted the governor and it was televised
They censored four years of my calendar
My grandmother died, she didn’t see me perform at the stadium
I said everything I felt, they loved me more outside than in my own country
But even though a German sings my songs
I want to be buried in Old San Juan
I may hide my sadness but I’m made out of rice and beans
And it hurts, it doesn’t matter if the midnight rum comforts me
And from the bottom, if I messed up, I dedicate four floors of forgiveness to my country
There is almost no one left here
Sometimes I don’t want to be here
I feel alone here, in the middle of the party
I want to be where no one can bother me
Burn my notebook, let go of my luggage
I want to call 755-0822 to see who answers
And if they answer, I want to tell them that I want to go back
I want to get out of this hotel and vanish
And if they answer, I want to tell them that I want to drop the curtain
Sometimes my pressure goes up, I’m afraid the plane will fall
That I don’t care about touring, the albums, the Grammys
And that I want to see Halley’s comet with mommy again on Calle 11
I want to go back to when my windows were made of sun and the heat woke me up
When they would call me to play, when I would rap for free
I want to take out the baseball cards from the container, steal again from second base
In summer and Christmas, I want to clean the house with my siblings, listening to Ruben Blades
I want to go back, go to the movies during the week and go to art school in the morning
I want to stay there, I don’t want to leave there
I want to go back to when I wasn’t allowed inside because I dressed badly
I want to go back to feeling, to when I didn’t have to fake it
I want to be me again
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
Head, knee, thighs and hip
