Paroles et traduction Separ - Mladý Chalan

Mladý Chalan

(čo-ah?) Toto je reálny príbeh (reálny), mladý Separ,
Nejaké roky dozadu, (čo-A-A) ti jebe na tú hlavu? (Separ-Separ... čo, ah, ah - čo?)... KGB crew... kto tam bol somnou tak vie to ... raz dva-raz dva... poď...

Je to nejaký ten rok dozadu mladý chalan,
Vedel že má talent bola by škoda keby ho neposkladal.
Hodiny strávené za stolom s ceruzou v ruke,
Checkoval veci a fleky miesta v autobuse.

Mesta čo ťa rovno zožere pokiaľ ťa nedokúše,
Nemôžeš byť dosraný - doma sa schovať pod vankúše.
Chcel mať meno byť ako Daor a Senior,
Išiel do toho naplno s tou hlavou pojašenou.

Soplák, na školáku, na stoličke rooftop pod lampou,
Furt sa flákal mával na škole problémy s dochádzkou.
V zošitoch len tagy throwupy a skeče,
Mal piči učivo aj bez neho mu život neuteče.

Mal svojho rozumu dosť poznámky písal na steny,
Na sídlisku odkiaľ je aj prvý slovenský writer vážený.
S Danom prvé panely v jarde mali raj na zemi,
20 minút outline blesk do tmy stratený.

Sledovali jardy kupovali farby,
Kryli si chrbát lebo veci nediali sa v rámci srandy.
Behali po meste s modelom zásobovali bandy,
Aby bolo na cesty na miesta kam nemôže každý.

To bola doba keď boli veci inak,
Deti nesedeli doma pri pičovinách,
Maľovanie bolo viac jak vyjebané hobby,
Chodievam často do tej doby sedieť späť na tie schody.

(Nebolo vždy toto všetko tak ako dnes... tak jak bomby-tagy od parťákov všade... bolo toho veľa a tie zážitky sú silné... cítim sa jak umelec, bol som writer aj raper!)

Išiel ďalej jak metro od zastávky k ďalšej,
Videl zmysel a vedel že sa v maľovaní našiel.
Prvý Vulcan Cross spolu s Danom na áčku,
V živote som nedal horší skeč na kopačku.

No každý ďalší panel kvalitnejší, farebnejší lepší,
Každý kto to videl videl že ten štýl už neni detský.
Sme to jebali do radu jak kokotom medzi cecky,
Jedna ruka so starými psami týmto zdravým všetkých.

V tom čase dávno skečovali tvary KGB,
Sedem bombimgov za víkend s celou crew tak nech ti nejebe.
Boli sme nindžovia dali sme hocičo,
Všetko zajebané od farieb robilo vrásky rodičom.

Som bol pri tom - aj keď iní maľovali viac,
Keď mali 3OO panelov mal som ich 5O.
Zrazu milióny zážitkov cesty po európe,
Kontakty na writerov love na tiket ktoré nepreslopeš.

Hodiny jazdy vo vlakoch, hlava v oblakoch,
Pečiatky rôznych krajín v pase, na chrbte len batoh.
Videl miesta ktoré bežný človek neuvidí nikdy,
Stres a eufória v jednom pocite mi dala kyslík.

To bola doba keď boli veci inak,
Mladí nesedeli doma pri pičovinách,
Maľovanie bolo viac jak vyjebané hobby,
Chodievam často do tej doby sedieť späť na tie schody.

(Nebolo vždy toto všetko tak ako dnes... tak jak bomby-tagy od parťákov všade... bolo toho veľa a tie zážitky sú silné... cítim sa jak umelec, bol som writer aj raper!)

V tento moment je to bohužiaľ už ina káva,
Sem-tam dám legal starý separ zaostáva.
No každopádne som vďačný za chvíle života,
Keď nám bolo jedno všetko - more živá tupota.

Zdravím KGB, zdravím Rascals aj Mutantov,
Moja zovretá päsť k oblohe pre bratov.
Cením všetko čo bolo dajte mi venovanie k panelu,
Za vás píšem obrovský big up fat capom na stenu.
Text pridala Leush
Text opravil _Nero
Video přidal _Nero

Young Buck

(what-ah?) This is a real story (real), young Separ,
Some years back, (what-A-A) are you crazy? (Separ-Separ... what, ah, ah - what?)... KGB crew... those who were there with me know it ... one two-one two... come on...

It was some years ago, a young buck,
He knew he had talent, it would be a shame if he didn't put it together.
Hours spent at the table with a pencil in hand,
Checking things and spots on the bus.

Cities that will devour you if they don't bite you,
You can't be scared - hiding at home under pillows.
He wanted to have a name, to be like Daor and Senior,
He went all in with that crazy head of his.

A snot-nosed kid, on a school chair, rooftop under a lamp,
Always slacking off, had problems with attendance at school.
Only tags, throw-ups, and sketches in notebooks,
He didn't give a damn about the curriculum, life wouldn't run away from him without it.

He had enough of his own mind, he wrote notes on the walls,
In the housing estate where the first respected Slovak writer is also from.
With Dan, the first panels in the yard, they had heaven on earth,
20 minutes outline, lightning into the darkness, lost.

They watched the yards, bought paints,
They covered each other's backs because things weren't happening for fun.
They ran around the city with a model, supplying gangs,
So there would be something for the roads, for places where not everyone can go.

That was the time when things were different,
Kids didn't sit at home with bullshit,
Painting was more than just a fucking hobby,
I often go back to that time to sit on those stairs again.

(It wasn't always all like this... like bombs-tags from buddies everywhere... there was a lot and those experiences are strong... I feel like an artist, I was a writer and a rapper!)

He went further like a subway from one stop to the next,
He saw the meaning and knew he had found himself in painting.
The first Vulcan Cross with Dan on the train,
I've never done a worse sketch on a shoe.

But every next panel was of higher quality, more colorful, better,
Everyone who saw it could see that the style was no longer childish.
We were banging it in a row like dicks between tits,
One hand with the old dogs, with this I salute everyone.

At that time, they were sketching KGB shapes a long time ago,
Seven bomb-images in a weekend with the whole crew, so don't fuck with us.
We were ninjas, we did anything,
Everything covered in paint gave parents wrinkles.

I was there - even though others painted more,
When they had 300 panels, I had 50.
Suddenly millions of experiences, journeys through Europe,
Contacts with writers, love on tickets you can't lose.

Hours of riding on trains, head in the clouds,
Stamps from different countries in my passport, just a backpack on my back.
He saw places that an ordinary person will never see,
Stress and euphoria in one feeling gave me oxygen.

That was the time when things were different,
Young people didn't sit at home with bullshit,
Painting was more than just a fucking hobby,
I often go back to that time to sit on those stairs again.

(It wasn't always all like this... like bombs-tags from buddies everywhere... there was a lot and those experiences are strong... I feel like an artist, I was a writer and a rapper!)

At this moment, it's unfortunately a different kind of coffee,
Here and there I do a legal one, the old Separ is falling behind.
But in any case, I'm grateful for the moments of life,
When we didn't care about anything - a sea of living footsteps.

Greetings to KGB, greetings to Rascals and Mutants,
My clenched fist to the sky for my brothers.
I appreciate everything that was, give me a dedication to the panel,
For you, I write a huge big up with a fat cap on the wall.
Lyrics added by Leush
Lyrics corrected by _Nero
Video added by _Nero