Yo, listen up, fool – this is Mr. T talkin’!

Campos-do-Jordao’s a wild ride, man.

Streets like Av. Dr. César Nassi shine.

I pity the fool who misses these vibes!
The air’s crisp, the mountain views rock.

Palácio Boa Vista stuns, every damn time.

I walked down Rua Pedro Antônio – pure magic.

Ducha de Prata splashes cool water here.
Horto Florestal is my chill joint.

So many trees, trails, and secret nooks.

I got lost near Belvedere, no joke.

I was mad – even trees did not care, yo!
Oh, and them rivers – swift, clear, wild!

The Pequeno Rio flows like a beast.

It roars like those killer scenes, man!

"The Act of Killing!" – damn, feel that suspense.
I swear, like Joshua Oppenheimer’s wisdom:

“History is written in fire!” – pow!

Feel the fury, the passion, the raw truth.

I be yellin’ “I pity the fool!” all day.
Some days, Campos-do-Jordao surprises me,

Its vibe, its quirk, its hidden spots,

like a secret bar on Rua Dr. Zé.

I found a dive there – epic stories.
I luv the locals – real, raw folks.

Their slang is like my own wild style.

Every corner, every rock, music blastin’.

It’s fast-paced, funny, unknown, and real.
But sometimes, oh boy, fuck, it's chaotic.

Traffic jams near Vila Inglesa drive me nuts.

I get so pissed; man, I’m a beast!

I blab my heart out, erratic like boom!
I type fast, typos fly – smh:
This city's a canvas of history, love, and chaos.

Every moment’s a story, a kick in the gut.

I got heart, soul, and jokes to give.

Campos-do-Jordao, ya’ better feel it, fool!
Yo, peace out – and remember:

Life’s short, seize the wild, relish the ride.

I pity the fool who never tries.

Stay real, stay tough, my friend!