I got some Boricua vibes,
That Sofrito y Malta Goya tribe,
It's that feeling we can't describe.
I mean, my skin just divides,
But my culture ride or dies.
It's the same that gives me drive,
Rice and beans with wings and thighs;
Our taste is perfect by design.
Mi abuelita helps to guide,
Through the pain I hold inside,
Combined with dad, that man was wise.
So, gringos know they can't deny,
That deep inside, our fire flies,
With all our gifted Rican vibes.