Crte Lica (feat. GIR) - Scriptor traduction en anglais

Crte Lica (feat. GIR)

Kad primim mic, rep sjedne na prvi let za jebeno
Još debelo prije anđela Scriptor je demon
U Hrvatskoj, Sloveniji, Crnoj gori i Bosni dečki
Poskrivečki dešifriraju moj prosti rječnik
Spreme moj rep ko lekciju u rep kolekciju
Pa kad krenu pisat svoj dožive rekolekciju
Satkan sam po mjeri roda plemenitih zvijeri voda
Svaki reper ovog perioda je meni odan
Nova ekipa mi zvuči bolje no ikad
Al zasad se mogu samo slikat pored mog lika
Maestralan rep, dajem vjetar u leđa, tramontanu
Jer sam roko retke kad je Dr. Oetker brao pamuk
Pa me ne ganu pokisli gitaristi
Znao bi im svaku rimu unaprijed i da ne čitam misli
Jer im je ritam isti, misaono oskudan
Posprdan, svaki postulat ostaje floskula
Gola istina obučena u ruho laži
Ko mit o uholaži, vic koji ti duh obnaži
Na ivici sna i jave, remetim tvoj polusan
Malu ti znam iz busa, bengala je moju stvar
Ekipa koja plovi na sjećanju na novi val
Ni u snovima ne sluti što radim sa slovima
Pogađam ritam surovo ko majku smrt jedinca
Tata je na majku, sine, provjeri mi crte lica

A ti smanji dozu kemikalije,
Briješ na mafijozu, al ne nosiš genitalije
Ti, na cesti stupaš kao Charles de Gaulle
Ali kad nastupaš svi zajedno viču car je gol
Ti smanji dozu kemikalije
Briješ na mafijozu, al ne nosiš genitalije
Ti, koji si bio uzor mladima
Ostao si luzer, život ti je uzo nadimak

Donosim na stol novo pa se svaki reper gosti
Putujem ko Yammat, put skoro nepremostiv
Generacija Twittera trune
Ljubitelj noir filmova, njemačke literature
Vidio duhovne bezdane, puteve zvjezdane
Riječ testament, priče nestvarne ko gangsta rep
Predvidio sam ovo, Nostradamus
Odrasto uz GTA, joystick u ruci, nisam htio postat Faust
Riječ je zapisana od strane dva pisara
Već dugo ne pišem versove već je svaki psalam
Nikad nisam bio više rastrgan između reda i kaosa kao sad
U oceanu misli nema smisla ni broda
U vječnosti uočavam svoj kristalni odraz
Nemam vremena za dvoumljenje, pristani odma
Romeo, Julija, Bonnie, Clyde, Tristan, Izolda
A misaoni projektili lete ko leptiri
Bolje pročitat jednu značajnu knjigu nego sto lektiri
Kolektivni delirij, prividno smo objektivni, a ti

Face Lines (feat. GIR)

When I get mic, rap sits on the first flight to f*cking
Even before the angels, Scriptor is a demon
In Croatia, Slovenia, Montenegro, and Bosnia, boys
Secretly decipher my simple vocabulary
They put my rap like a lesson in a rap collection
Then when they start writing their experienced recollection
I'm woven to the measure of the lineage of noble beasts of water
Every rapper of this period is devoted to me
The new team sounds better than ever
But for now, I can only take pictures next to my image
Masterful rap, I give wind in my back, tramontana
Because I'm a rare rock when Dr. Oetker was picking cotton
So I'm not moved by soggy guitarists
I'd know every rhyme in advance even if I didn't read your mind
Because their rhythm is the same, thought-scarce
Mocked, every postulate remains a cliché
The naked truth dressed in the guise of lies
Like the myth of the earwig, a joke that strips your spirit bare
On the edge of dream and reality, I disrupt your half-sleep
I know a girl from the bus, Bengal is my thing
The crew that sails on the memory of the new wave
Even in your dreams, you don't know what I do with letters
I hit the rhythm brutally like a mother's death to an only child
Father on mother, son, check my face lines

And you lower the dose of chemicals,
You're bragging about being a mafioso, but you don't wear genitals
You, on the street you step like Charles de Gaulle
But when you perform, everyone yells, the king is naked
You lower the dose of chemicals
You're bragging about being a mafioso, but you don't wear genitals
You, who used to be a role model for young people
You've become a loser, life has taken your nickname

I bring something new to the table, and every rapper feasts
I travel like Yammat, a path almost insurmountable
The Twitter generation is rotting
A lover of noir films, German literature
Seen spiritual abysses, starry paths
The word testament, stories unreal like gangster rap
I predicted this, Nostradamus
Grew up with GTA, joystick in hand, didn't want to become Faust
The word is written by two scribes
I haven't written verses for a long time, every psalm is
I've never been more torn between order and chaos than now
In the ocean of thoughts, there is no sense or boat
In eternity, I see my crystalline reflection
I don't have time for hesitation, dock right away
Romeo, Juliet, Bonnie, Clyde, Tristan, Isolde
And thought-projectiles fly like butterflies
Better to read one significant book than a hundred anthologies
Collective delirium, we are seemingly objective, and you