Rhythm of Our Souls

From the kitchen table, where abuela used to pray. I hear the

beating of the drums that call my name. Miami streets remember,

but our hearts can't let go. We carry what they gave us

in our hands, in our souls. <foreign_language> It doesn't cost us nothing,

the rhythm sets us free. <foreign_language> For the family far away,

we dance, we pray, we believe. That night hey,

dum, dum, dum day, oh, yo,

yo, yeah, hey. We don't need nothing else.