Tu Eta Exótica Lyrics – Cris MJ | from “Las Filtradas”

Cris MJ just turned Christmas into a full-on perreo takeover with LAS FILTRADAS, his raw 18-track drop hitting shelves today via SONAR, and “Tú Estás Exótica” is that late-night magnet—pulling you into a haze of forbidden vibes and bass that hits like forbidden fruit.

This cut, track nine on the set, is Cris at his most unhinged: a reggaeton-trap hybrid cooked up by Reelian and Wiroll Beats, with skittering dembow rhythms and synth stabs that slink like a Lambo through city lights. It’s got that Chilean urban swagger—think gritty street poetry over glossy hooks—but dialed up with erotic edge, all about that exotic temptress who’s “erótica, diabólica,” turning quick flings into sweaty confessions.

Thematically, it’s pure escapism: fornicating under the radar, dropping gotitas on totitas, chasing highs with marihuana clouds and zero strings, no rats in the crew. Cris’s flow flips from cocky (“Vamo’ a fornicar, aquí hay chavos pa’ gastar”) to almost tender (“Nadie tiene que saber”), painting hookups as both thrill and trap. Dropped with a simple Insta teaser of him in the booth, it’s already blowing up TikToks, fans stitching their own “exótica” thirst traps to the coro.

LAS FILTRADAS lives up to its name—“the leaked ones”—scooping up those bootleg bangers that haunted the streets for months and polishing them into a cohesive beast. Clocking 50 minutes of non-stop heat, it’s Cris reclaiming his narrative: no big concept, just vault raids turned victory lap, blending solo flexes like “Pensando Brigido” and “Romperte” with collabs that pop—FloyyMenor on “Hoy Te Toca,” Nes On The Shet for “Dónde Estás Ma,” Panda Black’s grit on “Flaite,” and Bryant Myers closing “Subieron Las Ventas.” Recorded piecemeal in Santiago spots, it’s got that filtered authenticity: themes of barrio hustle, heartbreak highs, and unapologetic wins, proving reggaeton’s not just party fuel—it’s survival sauce.

Cris is closing ’25 on god mode, the 23-year-old from La Florida who flipped “Gata Only” into a global earworm now stacking plaques off Apocalipsis’s June smash. From underground cyphers to Coachella whispers, he’s evolved that raw trap edge into something borderless, trading teen angst for boss-level bravado—tours selling out Latin America, whispers of a U.S. run in ’26. This drop? It’s him owning the leaks, flipping rumors into reign.