Paroles et traduction Co'Sang - Casa Mia

Casa Mia

Nisciun o sap quant è difficil p nu guaglion e napl a s′imporr ind a società.tutt chell ca agg fatt ind a vita mij accuminciaj pi sfreg e po co tiemp è diventat nu stil e vit.agg semp pnsat ca a lott e tutt i juorn putess essr n'ispirazion invec m′accis mentalment.e jurnat so punt interrogativ e tu vai annanz e nun dic nient a cas.e tien na guaglion e viv ind a na stanz e duj metr quadrat e ce a ricr ca riman sarà megl.u punt fridd e barbecue.i strad alberat i cas popolar marron tutt e razz nsiem.l'orizzont mij so so raprut e invec e guardà nderr mo guard nciel.e vuless ca a genta mij foss chiù felic.
Ntò
Scenn a quot, sagl o vuot
Tuorn e nun saj si truov o buon
Mentr vuol, ansia nguoll
Finalment tuocc o suol
Suonn gruoss,è nu chiuov fiss, muov businness
Che sinistr p duj fitt fitt e nu fridd mist
A micreconomia ricicl o poc
Nu terz e nuj sta miezz a vij, n'atu terz trasloc
Chi rest o prest sold co interess o s′avvilisc
Tra slot, finanziarij pa vacanz e gratt e vinc
Com all′ebrei simm l'emblem ra sopravvivenz
Embè nun teng manc o badget p m fa i gadget
O marciapied è quasi paviment, sap i detersiv
T sient fier i essr viv
RIT
Ma ogni juorn ogni nott ind o juoc è na lott
E p nun falli a valigia s fa u guardarob
Si tu vien a miezz e stient pur i spicc staj accort
Ogni tant e tien, ma chiù spiss e nvient sti sold
Luchè
L′agg fatt p l'ammor de sold
Lasciai napl addo tussev sang
E scetat già stev stanc
O rifiut ra schiavitù legal ma guitat
Rinchius nda miserij, er part ra maggioranz
Ind a sti strad ca t crescn e t schifn
Criatur so fridd e concentrat cu chil ngopp a chil
Vulaj a londr, inghilter, chin e mbruogl e pront p viern
E ogni pustegg bon s′attaccav ngopp a segg
Ma mo vogl turnà addo e mamm allucn "è pront"
Addo e fa sul nu scalin p sta ind a cucin
Addo l'union familiar è fort
E nun avè mai paur
A mort è vist comm passagg a vita miglior
So stanc e spurcà o n′omm i na nazion
A famiglia mij nun vo ma av bisogn e prdon
E accett e ragal e nu figl finalment benestant
Ca nun vo ra u stess passat si addvent padr

My Home

Nobody knows how hard it is for a Neapolitan kid to make it in society. Everything I've done in my life started as a joke, and over time it became a lifestyle. I always thought that fighting every day could be an inspiration, but it's killing me mentally. The days are question marks, and you keep going without saying anything by chance. You have a girl and live in a two-square-meter room, hoping that staying will be better. The cold tip of the barbecue, the tree-lined streets, the brown public housing, all races together. My horizons used to be closed, but instead of looking back, I now look at the sky. I wish my people were happier.
In the neighborhood
The price goes up, empty stomach
I come back and don't know if I'll find anything good
While I want, anxiety swallows
Finally, I touch the ground
Loud sound, it's a fixed nail, moving business
How sinister for two close calls and a cold mist
The microeconomy recycles the little
A third of us stay half alive, another third relocates
What remains, soon, money with interest or depreciates
Between slots, loans for vacations, and scratch-offs
Like the Jews, we are the emblem of survival
Well, I don't even have the budget to make myself gadgets
The sidewalk is almost flooring, it knows detergents
You feel proud to be alive
CHORUS
But every day, every night, in the game, it's a struggle
And to avoid failing, the suitcase becomes the wardrobe
If you come in the middle and even touch the thorns, be careful
Every now and then you hold on, but more often you lose this money
Luchè
I did it for the love of money
I left Naples where I coughed up blood
And I was already tired when I woke up
The rejection of legal slavery, but look
Locked up in misery, I was part of the majority
In these streets that raise you and disgust you
Creatures are cold and concentrated with kilos upon kilos
I flew to London, England, full and confused, ready for winter
And every good spot I stuck to the chair
But now I want to go back to where my mom shouts "it's ready"
Where you have to do it on a step to be in the kitchen
Where the family union is strong
And never be afraid
Death is seen as a passage to a better life
I'm tired of dirtying the name of a nation
My family doesn't want to, but they need forgiveness
And they accept the gifts of a son who is finally well-off
Who doesn't want the same past if he becomes a father