Paroles et traduction Chukky - Mi herencia

Mi herencia

No sé si puedo rapear esto, no creo, se me coge un nudo y.

Tiene setenta años, aunque no aparenta apenas cincuenta...
Me regaló ese don, tampoco aparento mis treinta,
Me tuvo tarde, pero fui buscao me dijo siempre:
"Papá quiso un varón y naciste tú, ¡mira que suerte!"

Me ha enseñao a mirar de frente,
A esquivar obstáculos, a salvar los embrollos, y a ser valiente.
Camina siempre sonriente y habla con tol mundo,
Me regaló su carisma y su don de gentes,

Me canta todas las mañanas,
Cuida a su marío, sus plantas y a mis hermanas,
Por la tarde ensaya con mi padre, mientras cocinaba
Es una señora de antes, ama de casa, jamás una esclava,

Perdió a su mami y aún conserva sus recetas,
Tiene un buen hombre que la cuida y la respeta,
Si tuve grescas siempre me calmó con besos,
"No eres malo nene, solo travieso, se te irá cuando crezcas"

Me regaló la armonía que hay en mi voz,
Su forma de entender la vida y explicarla,
Y hoy estoy aquí escribiendo esta canción
Que no quiero escribirtecuando ya no estés aquí para escucharla

Es la mejor herencia que puede existir,
Te doy las gracias madre por dejarla en mí,
No quiero bienes materiales
Porque todo lo que quiero está en mi sangre
Y eso sólo te lo debo a ti.
Es la mejor herencia que puede existir,
Te doy las gracias padre por dejarla en mí,
No quiero bienes materiales,
Porque todo lo que quiero está en mi sangre
Y eso sólo te lo debo a ti

Tiene setenta y cinco, y se levanta pronto de la cama,
La costumbre de currar to su vida a las seis de la mañana,
No baja al bar se queda en casa,
Jamás le gritó a mi madre y nunca le puso una mala cara,

Me ha enseñao a tener constancia,
Ensaya to los días de su vida desde su infancia,
Tiene alma de músico, y habla consigo mismo,
Me regalo el sentido del ritmo, le doy las gracias.

Es un hombre serio, criao en la postguerra,
De cuando se decía que los hombres no lloraban, sacaban sus garras,
No le he visto llorando nunca,
Sólo llora por las manos, tocando melodías tristes en su guitarra,

Vive en su mundo que se encuentra muy lejos de aquí.
Me regaló ese don para evadirme y escribir,
"Donde aprendiste ese lenguaje niño,
Será en la calle porque aquí en nuestra casa nunca se ha hablao así"

No cree en dios, porque muy joven le robó a sus padres,
Yo pienso igual si existe un dios debe ser miserable,
Prefiero hoy que a mañana cuando te escriba
No quiero esperar que ya no estés y que no lo escuches desde arriba.

Y bueno, poco más que añadir. eso. daros las gracias por.
Porque lo que yo tengo, no se paga con dinero, ¡qué coño!, ni con tol dinero del mundo se puede pagar esto. ¡os quiero!

My Inheritance

I don't know if I can rap this, I don't think so, I get a lump in my throat and...

She's seventy years old, although she barely looks fifty...
She gave me that gift, I don't look my thirty either,
She had me late, but I was wanted, she always told me:
"Dad wanted a boy and you were born, look how lucky!"

She taught me to look straight ahead,
To dodge obstacles, overcome difficulties, and be brave.
She always walks with a smile and talks to everyone,
She gave me her charisma and her gift of people,

She sings to me every morning,
She takes care of her husband, her plants, and my sisters,
In the afternoon she rehearses with my father, while she cooked
She is a lady of the past, a housewife, never a slave,

She lost her mommy and still keeps her recipes,
She has a good man who takes care of her and respects her,
If I had fights, she always calmed me down with kisses,
"You're not bad, baby, just mischievous, it'll go away when you grow up"

She gave me the harmony that is in my voice,
Her way of understanding life and explaining it,
And today I'm here writing this song
That I don't want to write to you when you're no longer here to listen to it

It's the best inheritance that can exist,
Thank you, mother, for leaving it in me,
I don't want material goods
Because everything I want is in my blood
And I only owe that to you.
It's the best inheritance that can exist,
Thank you, father, for leaving it in me,
I don't want material goods,
Because everything I want is in my blood
And I only owe that to you

He's seventy-five, and he gets out of bed early,
The habit of working all his life at six in the morning,
He doesn't go down to the bar, he stays at home,
He never yelled at my mother and never gave her a bad look,

He taught me to be consistent,
He's been practicing every day of his life since he was a child,
He has the soul of a musician, and he talks to himself,
He gave me the sense of rhythm, I thank him.

He is a serious man, raised in the post-war period,
When it was said that men did not cry, they took out their claws,
I've never seen him cry,
He only cries through his hands, playing sad melodies on his guitar,

He lives in his world which is very far from here.
He gave me that gift to escape and write,
"Where did you learn that language, child,
It must be on the street because here in our house we've never spoken like that"

He doesn't believe in God, because at a young age he stole from his parents,
I think the same, if there is a God he must be miserable,
I prefer today that tomorrow when I write to you
I don't want to wait until you're gone and you don't hear it from above.

And well, little more to add. that. thank you for.
Because what I have, you can't pay for with money, what the hell!, not with all the money in the world can you pay for this. I love you!