Lyrics and translation Nasta con Magno - Mala vida con fe

Mala vida con fe

Mirando con los palos que me queman y me matan
Sigo mi camino imperando en mi cloaca
Love pa los que duermen, la furia se desata
Cuando un bastando parte, parte en dos esos bullacas
Negocio con el fiel no con la rata
Del cielo al infierno sin rencores, puta vuelve el que maltrata
Castillos de arena hundidos como buen bandido duro es mi sonido, de cien como una buena roca
Diamantes de barrio, talento malgastado
Nunca estuve a gusto en ningún lado, poco integrado
Problemas, colegios, expulsado, jueces, internados, mamá y papá casi se separaron
Siempre ojos morados, siempre marrones en barrios
En la puerta del tuto había que darlo todo
Quemando canutos, quemando calendario
Quince años después seguimos caminando en barro
La grume en el pasillo, calabozos, camerinos, escenarios, fumando del buen matojo
Nunca te dio chance naster, por eso avanzaste, el mejor rapero muerto en vida mira quien renace
Gangsters, chicos de oro y clase, trapicheos y traje
La testa es pasta desde que grabamos en garajes
Inmortales en las frases, estrellas bajo los flashes
Dando donde duele, Madrid aquí renace
(Ahora tienes sida auditivo gracias a Magno)

Wicked Life with Faith

Staring at the sticks that burn and kill me
I keep going my way, reigning in my sewer
Love for those who are sleeping, the rage is unleashed
When a cop breaks up, breaks those hooligans in two
Business with the faithful, not with the rat
From heaven to hell without rancor, the one who abuses comes back as a whore
Sand castles sunk, as a good tough bandit, my sound is hard, like a good rock out of a hundred
Neighborhood diamonds, wasted talent
I was never comfortable anywhere, not very integrated
Problems, schools, expelled, judges, boarding schools, Mom and Dad almost separated
Always black eyes, always brown in the neighborhoods
At the entrance to the schoolyard you had to give it your all
Burning joints, burning the calendar
Fifteen years later we're still walking in the mud
The grume in the hall, prison cells, dressing rooms, stages, smoking good weed
Naster never gave you a chance, that's why you moved forward, the best rapper dead in life, look who's reborn
Gangsters, golden boys, and class, drug dealing and suits
The testa is pasta since we recorded in garages
Immortal in the phrases, stars under the flashes
Hitting where it hurts, Madrid is reborn here
(my love, now you have ear AIDS thanks to Magno)