Paroles et traduction Shikriwal - F**k the Dj

F**k the Dj

Pichli gali me makabre ke piche
Sasti si baate aur sasta hi pike
Gali ke mai laundo me ghumu
Hai sangat ke chode pr kya kya mai bhulu
Pichle hi din ke ye kissee
Jab morning walk nikle wo
Har din hai kiss day
Mere sine se chipke hai charas ke tinke
Wo wiskey bass piti aur kehti ki sip le
Mai honda civic me
Aur bass tube h piche
Nazre nai sadko pe kuch to hai niche
Mai bumper pe bounce
Dump kr ke town
Paaw nai aab mere rehte zaamee pe
Mai underground artist
Pr khud pe yakeen h
Sab jaane de thik h
Ye rappers sb niche
Aur hindi urdu ke ye shayar sb free ke
Mai india me lease pe hu aaya prithwi se
Jab dekha amount
Cheque saare bounce
Ye music industry mere laudey ke niche
Hai chasme bade kyn ki lete ye piche
Aur dikhte natije jab gaano me cikhe
Ye miss krte pounds
Hai tandhe sb sounds

Bangers beate to thik h
Ye spit krte baars mai deta hu tikkeee
Aur dekhe jab niche to lagte ye dj
Bass nobee ye kiche aur lete ye bj
Aur club ke bhi piche
Koi jaane nai thik se
Ye bass kehte bounce
Orchestra sound
Sapne mai dekhu marzi ke
Sab dikhta h porn aur lagta h cliche
Mai kichu lakire aur industry piche
Mai 10 saal me hit
Hai duniya jo piche
Mai 10 saal se lit
10 rappers ke bich me
Mai 10 saal se bitch
Du sabko jab teachings
Pr kitne h drowned
Aur kitne around
Mai tairu bss sidhe aur nazre manzil pe
Mai trust krta khudpe aur khud ke tarikeee
Na khud ka hai sound na artist announced
Mai pj me dj pe bajta hu pike
Hum teasers nai choore
Sidhe album tikhe
Mere gaane nai bajte
Han Party to thik h
Itna sara flavour hum kaise to kiche
Hai wordplay natizeee
Aur flow lagte sidhe
Na karta rebound . mai jump karta sound
Hai 3d surround
Jab flow krta bounce
Teachers ki teachings se equal hum likhte
Aur dilli ki garmi me diseal se bikte
Aur kichado me bhi adidas hi ghiste
Aur pital ke bottal me pital ke sikke
Aur minal ki baaho me gir jaate cigarette's
Sab rone ke rishte
Aur lole ke piche se
Krta Salam jab dekhu mai chize
Na rakhta lagaam
Zuban phir bhi thik hai
Neet pe neet jab baraf hai niche
Aur charas ki talab pe sutta bhi thik h
Aur kamar ki jhalak pe
Ankhe hum micche
Aur khadi wo samne
Ankhe tbb niche
Aur sab kuch h piche

Na nikle koi sound

Jab wo h around

F**k the Dj

I walk down the backstreets and everything's macabre
Chatting cheap and drinking cheap beer
I wander with the local boys
I try to forget about my sacred brotherhood
Stories from just yesterday
When you went for your morning walk
Every day is kiss day
My chest is stuck with cannabis twigs
You just drank whiskey and said "take a sip"
I'm in a Honda Civic
With a bass tube in the back
My eyes aren't on the road, there's something down there
I bounce on the bumper
Dumping on the town
My feet are no longer grounded
I'm an underground artist
But I believe in myself
Let it all go, it's okay
These rappers are all below me
And these Hindi and Urdu poets are all free
I'm leased in India from Earth
When I saw the amount
All the checks bounced
This music industry is below my dick
My glasses are big because they take pictures of me from behind
And the results show when I scream in my songs
They miss pounds
The sounds are all dull

Bangers beats are okay
You spit bars, I give you beats
And when I look down, you guys look like DJs
Just noobs who scratch and take BJs
And behind the club too
Nobody really knows
You just say bass bounce
Orchestra sound
I dream of whatever I want
Everything looks like porn and feels like a cliche
I'm a few lines behind the industry
I'll be a hit in 10 years
The world is behind me
I've been lit for 10 years
Amongst 10 rappers
I've been a bitch for 10 years
Teaching everyone
But how many are drowned
And how many are around
I just swim straight and focus on the goal
I trust myself and my own ways
No unique sound or announced artist
I play on the DJ in my PJs, drunk
We don't drop teasers
Straight albums, spicy
My songs don't play
But the party's okay
How can we handle so much flavor?
The wordplay is crazy
And the flow is straight
I don't rebound. I jump on the sound
It's 3D surround
When the flow bounces around
We write as much as the teachers teach
And sell diesel in the Delhi heat
And still wear Adidas in the mud
And brass coins in brass bottles
And cigarettes fall into Minal's arms
All relationships are crying
And behind the jokes
I greet things when I see them
I don't hold back
My tongue is still okay
Layer upon layer of ice below
And a cigarette is also okay by the cannabis pond
And my eyes are squinted
At a glimpse of her waist
And she stands before me
My eyes then below
And everything else is behind

No sound comes out

When she's around