Paroles et traduction Cartel de Santa feat. Mr. Pomel - Si Son Bien Jotos

Si Son Bien Jotos

Wuacha, un saludo pa′l DHA
Que le queremos dedicar esta canción
A los que dicen que no somos de verdad
Con muy, muy, muy especial dedicación
Pa' todo joto que nos haya tirado en una canción
Los tres vatos quesque malos pandilleros vagos
Quisieron jugar un juego que yo ya tenía ganado
No soy malvado, nomás lo que es
Pero mi fama de malandro la agarre a los dieciséis
Así que pues, ni modo que me deje que me chinguen
El rap no lo aprendí en un pinche colegio bilingüe
Lo aprendí en la calle, donde vergas esperabas
Al chile no me paran con machetes o pedradas
Ocupan plomo, pa′ jalar como yo jalo
Cargando en la cintura hasta cuando vayan al baño
Porque este babo, está re-loco
No sé si por el foco, por los ácidos o el choco
Pero así es y así será
Que el que no muera, sangre, si la cosa es de verdad
Ahí nomás
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Llego la nueva era rapera, la de a deveras
Es en babilonia pura clica callejera
A mí me vale verga, traigo escuela de la calle
Al chile, ni se metan con el morrillo del cartel
Vengo desde Guadalupe para Santa
Hay donde los huevos mandan y los perros cantan
Tengo varios vatos en mi lista negra
Cuando oigan los culetazos, al chile de mí se acuerdan
O qué, apoco ya culearon, si aquí todo se paga jotos, ya se la pelaron
Escuchen al tirano, putos, luego nos topamos
Que al cabo arrieros somos y en el camino andamos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
De lunes a domingo en lo mismo, perdido en el abismo
Vicioso concentrado en cabalgar el ritmo
Nunca chingo sin una buena razón
Mi tres ochenta basta pa' explotarte el corazón
Escúchame cabrón, que yo rimo siempre en serio
Dejo de ser misterio que te espera el cementerio, maricón
Y eso de milagro, si es que alguien haya tus restos
Cuatro metros bajo tierra tapan el olor a muerto
Fúmate esto, porque digo la vedad
Solo compara mi letra con mi historial criminal, animal
Ya hace 28 abriles
Y esto no se compara con sus rimas infantiles, corre ve y diles
A todos compinches que llego el mata chinches que los mata con el trinche
El pinche babo, no hay quien me linche
Los apago, cuando la santa muerte siempre cabalga a mi lado
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Ya sabes quién soy, así que te me callas
Para ganar batallas, este perro no batalla
Les quedo grande mi rap, no dieron la talla
Liricas de alto nivel, carbón, tengo mis mañanas
No sé a qué le tiran, si luego andan llorando
Le marcan a la chota, y le dicen: "me pego Dharius"
Creen que son malandros, pero son maricones
Váyanse a la verga, pinches vatitos llorones
Si quieren aventarse un tiro limpio, me lo aviento
Y si quieren agarrarme a baño, también me la fleto
No hay pedo, después nos arreglamos
Ya están advertidos pa' que se anden con cuidado
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Aunque cierres la boca, te toca
No me siento más hombre por andar fumando mota
Toma nota, y no pierdas tu libreta
La muerte anda acechando por las calles y banquetas
Traigo en la camioneta, clavada una escopeta
Con pura de cinco pa′ zumbártela en la jeta
Puñetas, qué estabas esperando
Qué saliera corriendo con tu pistola de diábolos
Traigo el mando, más que por malandro, por cantarles con huevos
Y estos pinches pendejos pensado que yo era nuevo
Ando al puro pedo, con billetes en la bolsa
Por si me tuercen los cuetes, darles su mochada a la chota
No me importan sus jaladas inventadas
Como dice, la Brasil, ustedes son pura mamada
Bronca de bajada, yo puro de subida
Si no abrieran el hocico no tendrían esas heridas
Ni sus jefas llorarían, mira
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos
Si son bien jotos

If You're Really Fags

Wuacha, greetings to the DHA
We want to dedicate this song to them
To those who say we're not real
With very, very, very special dedication
For every fag who has dissed us in a song
The three dudes who are supposedly bad gangbangers
They wanted to play a game that I already won
I'm not evil, just what I am
But I got my reputation as a thug at sixteen
So, well, there's no way I'm letting them fuck with me
I didn't learn rap in a fucking bilingual school
I learned it on the street, where the fuck did you expect?
Seriously, they can't stop me with machetes or stones
They need lead, to shoot like I shoot
Carrying at the waist even when you go to the bathroom
Because this fool is crazy
I don't know if it's because of the spotlight, the acids, or the coke
But that's how it is and that's how it will be
Whoever doesn't die, bleeds, if the thing is for real
There you have it
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
The new era of rap has arrived, the real one
It's pure street clique in Babylon
I don't give a fuck, I come from the street school
Seriously, don't mess with the cartel kid
I come from Guadalupe to Santa
Where the balls rule and the dogs sing
I have several dudes on my blacklist
When you hear the shots, you'll remember me, for real
Or what, you already chickened out? Here everything is paid for, fags, you already screwed up
Listen to the tyrant, pussies, we'll meet later
Because after all, we are muleteers and we are on the road
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
From Monday to Sunday in the same thing, lost in the abyss
Addicted and focused on riding the rhythm
I never fuck without a good reason
My three eighty is enough to blow your heart out
Listen to me asshole, I always rhyme seriously
It's no longer a mystery that the cemetery awaits you, faggot
And that's a miracle, if someone finds your remains
Four meters underground cover the smell of death
Smoke this, because I tell the truth
Just compare my lyrics with my criminal record, animal
It's been 28 years
And this doesn't compare to your childish rhymes, run and tell them
To all your buddies that the bedbug killer has arrived, who kills them with the knife
The fucking Babo, there's no one to lynch me
I turn them off, when Santa Muerte always rides by my side
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
You know who I am, so shut the fuck up
To win battles, this dog doesn't fight
My rap was too big for them, they didn't measure up
High-level lyrics, charcoal, I have my mornings
I don't know what they're aiming at, if they end up crying
They call the cops and say: "Dharius hit me"
They think they're gangsters, but they're faggots
Go to hell, you fucking crybaby dudes
If you want to have a clean shot, I'll take it
And if you want to grab me in the bathroom, I'll take it too
No problem, we'll settle it later
You've been warned to be careful
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
Even if you close your mouth, it's your turn
I don't feel more like a man for smoking weed
Take note, and don't lose your notebook
Death is lurking in the streets and sidewalks
I have a shotgun stuck in the truck
With pure five to blast it in your face
Damn, what were you expecting?
That I would run away with your BB gun
I'm in charge, more than for being a thug, for singing to you with balls
And these fucking idiots thought I was new
I'm just hanging out, with bills in my pocket
In case they twist my arm, to give the cops their bribe
I don't care about your made-up bullshit
As Brazil says, you are all just a joke
Downhill fight, I'm pure uphill
If you hadn't opened your mouths you wouldn't have those wounds
Nor would your mothers cry, look
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags
If you're really fags