Paroles et traduction Vinicius Preto - Rotina

Rotina

Essa é uma história que parece normal
Parecida com outras, mas um outro final
Tive sorte, foi o destino que quis
Que passasse por essas pra entender o que eu fiz
De errado e certo, eu não sei dizer
Mas com certeza os fatos me fizeram entender

Era domingão, calor demais, um sol pra cada
Eu e o Tocão se sentindo em um Opala
A caminho de casa, sem camisa, som no talo
Sem dever nada, passamos no mercado
Ao entrar pra estacionar, eu já pude avistar
Pelo retrovisor, duas barca logo atrás
Já deram o farol, mas eu nem me liguei
Que dessa vez era nóis a bola da vez

Parei, desliguei, saímos tranquilos
Desespero dos gambé, apontando arma e dando grito
Mãos pro alto!
Não entendi nada
Os cana ficaram foda porque eu tava dando risada

Falou pra mim que eu iria rir depois
Fiquei na moral, pra não piorar pra nós dois
Revistaram o carro, encostaram, me julgaram
E queriam saber de quem era e perguntaram
Onde tava a droga, onde iria, quem são vocês?
O dinheiro que eu tava, fui pegar quase apanhei
Nesse momento, o mercado tava olhando
Apontando, sorrindo ou até nos julgando

Mas o que parece rotina, é sempre igual
Abordam os pretos, racismo estrutural
Tantas histórias parecidas, com outro roteiro
Seria diferente, se não fôssemos pretos?
O que seria diferente na madrugada escura?
Um carro abandonado, dois pretos dentro da viatura
Vai!

Mas em Rio Preto também outra rotina estressante
No caminho da turnê, uma batida flagrante
Perdidos na cidade procurando endereço
Cinco caras dentro do prêmio, imagina o preço
Pros gambé da cidade era só mais um alvo
Já era noite, carro cinza, placa de São Paulo

Cheque-mate errado, uma jogada perdida
Blefaram no jogo, cheiradão de cocaína
Já saímos daquele jeito, de quem é quebrada
Sorrisos de raiva, estampados na cara
Encostados na parede, julgamento de rotina
Quatro viaturas, imagina a adrenalina
O contratante chegou e tentou explicar
Que estávamos atrasados e iríamos tocar

E a partir dali mudou totalmente
Perguntaram se era pagode e quem era a gente
Mesmo assim, o sargento falava demais
Se sentindo Deus, quis abrir o porta-malas
Sem pressa, fui abrir pro gambé folgado
Foi assim que ele viu o bagageiro lotado
Bateu nele a preguiça de sempre
Não quis mexer em nada e mandou seguir em frente

Foi assim também que a rotina se manteve
Mais uma batida rotineira, em cima da gente
Seguimos nosso caminho, acabou? Talvez
A expectativa fica, qual será a próxima vez?
Que seremos parados, tratados como suspeitos
Sendo violado qualquer um dos direitos
De andar por ai sem temer o que vem
Pros pretos terá que, sempre um porém
De se preparar e viver mantendo a sina
Sem saber o que te aguarda na próxima esquina
Vai!

Routine

This is a story that seems normal
Similar to others, but another ending
I was lucky, it was destiny that wanted me
To go through these to understand what I did
Wrong and right, I don't know how to say it
But certainly the facts made me understand

It was Sunday, too hot, one sun for each one
Tocão and I feeling like we were in an Opala
Heading home, shirtless, music blaring
Owing nothing, we stopped at the market
As I entered to park, I could see
Two police cars right behind me
They flashed their lights, but I didn't even pay attention
That this time it was our turn

I stopped, turned off the engine, and we got out calmly
Despair of the cops, pointing guns and shouting
Hands up!
I didn't understand anything
The cops got pissed because I was laughing

He told me I would laugh later
I stayed calm, so things wouldn't get worse for us
They searched the car, made me lean against it, and judged me
And they wanted to know who it belonged to and asked
Where were the drugs, where were you going, who are you?
The money I had, I almost got beaten up when I went to get it
At that moment, the market was watching
Pointing, smiling, or even judging us

But what seems like routine is always the same
They approach black people, structural racism
So many similar stories, with a different script
Would it be different if we weren't black?
What would be different in the dark night?
An abandoned car, two black people inside the police car
Go!

But in Rio Preto there's also another stressful routine
On the way to the tour, a blatant stop
Lost in the city looking for an address
Five guys inside the car, imagine the price
For the city cops we were just another target
It was already night, gray car, São Paulo license plate

Wrong checkmate, a lost move
They bluffed in the game, smelling of cocaine
We already left like that, like we were from the slums
Angry smiles, plastered on their faces
Leaning against the wall, a routine judgment
Four patrol cars, imagine the adrenaline
The contractor arrived and tried to explain
That we were late and that we were going to play

And from that moment on it changed completely
They asked if it was a party and who we were
Even so, the sergeant talked too much
Feeling like God, he wanted to open the trunk
In no hurry, I went to open it for the lazy cop
That's how he saw the full trunk
He got lazy and didn't want to touch anything
He told us to keep going

That's how the routine also remained
Another routine stop, right on top of us
We went our way, is it over? Maybe
The expectation remains, what will be the next time?
That we'll be stopped, treated like suspects
Violating any of our rights
To walk around without fearing what's coming
For black people there will always be a problem
To prepare and live maintaining the fate
Not knowing what awaits you around the next corner
Go!