Paroles et traduction Shotta - No me Importa

No me Importa

Hoy me he levantao quemao
Con el mundo, con la esfera entera agobiao
Y no hay comida en la nevera,
Cabeza escucha al fiera,
Bboy de verdad no le tiene que pegar
A nadie pa cantar, os lanza vomiteras.

¡Es broma, artista!
Es pa que niños de empresarios falangistas
Aprendan formas distintas,
Y no se guíen por las pintas,
Suelto tinta por la boca, ¡niña grábatelo en cintas!,
Tu mc de moda está en la tele, lo intuyo,
No sé si es comercial, pero está haciendo el capullo,
Delante de altos cargos se intimida ¡están muertos!, la Biblia
En el pecho echan de menos un dios que les bendiga,
En la discoteca yo ni siquiera entro primo,
Esos negros miran mal, con cara de asesinos (chupa),
En su vida entenderán este flow torbellino,
Por encima pasan como un phantom, al vendio aniquilo,
Están bailando Nelly, son felices con música de Lely Kelly,
El puto Shotta va, suena ya en tu keli,
Esto es rap pa niños chicos,
A ver si crecen y dan disgustos a papá con bigotitos,
Los incito, un delito,
Decías que te quería, ibas de santa,
Estabas hasta el cuello de mierda, sin dinero y él achanta,
Y mientras tanto
Tu madre está en el messenger mandando fotos porno y hablando mal de su matrimonio
¡plenilunio!, un 25 julio
Con toa la calor nació un micro de oro profundo
(¡te fundo!), del corazón al bafle,
Los verdaderos cafres están camuflados en el parque,
Hoy llevan traje y corbata,
Se van de putas y dejan a sus hijos en casa
Viendo los Serrano hasta las tantas
Y nunca pusieron atención,
Submundo del verso sin condición,
Chequean mi flow demolición.

Dicen qué estilo
Echo un ropa suelta
Dicen qué estilo
Las balas que escupo son rápidas como turbinas
Dicen qué estilo
Echo un ropa suelta
Dicen qué estilo
Por esas callejas detrás de los perros.

¡Te arderá el culo!, como después de comer un donet,
Tu amiga me vio en chándal y empezaron las preocupaciones
Su padre facha con bigote se lo come,
Está amargao porque su hijo escucha mis canciones (pobre),
No sé qué espera, anda llena tu nevera fiera,
Te falta algo, el morbo de las enfermeras,
¡niñato cabezón!, y esa groupie lo distrajo,
Parecen salíos de un embrión mío, suenan un poco pajos,
Bienvenío a la fiesta de los escritores,
Cantantes poperos en tanga los mancho de guacamole,
Usted perdone, criticones me chupan un huevo,
Tiento la suerte como yanquis con armas de fuego,
En la solapa "estoy sentao en los escalones",
Este disco es personal más que na por los bajones,
El amo de sádaco, están en los bancos,
Te mandan seis pies pa abajo a dormir con minusválidos.

I Don't Care

I woke up burnt out today,
With the world, with the whole sphere weighing me down.
And there's no food in the fridge,
My head listens to the beast,
A real b-boy doesn't have to hit
Anyone to sing, he throws up on you.

Just kidding, artist!
It's so that the children of Falangist businessmen
Learn different ways,
And don't judge by appearances,
I spit ink from my mouth, girl, record it on tape!
Your trendy MC is on TV, I sense it,
I don't know if he's commercial, but he's acting like a jerk,
In front of high officials he gets intimidated, they're dead! The Bible
On their chests, they miss a god to bless them,
I don't even go into the club, cousin,
Those black guys look at me wrong, with killer faces (sucks),
They'll never understand this whirlwind flow,
They pass by like a phantom, I annihilate them when they sell out,
They're dancing to Nelly, they're happy with Lelly Kelly music,
The fucking Shotta is coming, it's already playing in your cell,
This is rap for little kids,
Let's see if they grow up and upset their mustached dads,
I incite them, a crime,
You said you loved me, you were acting like a saint,
You were up to your neck in shit, without money and he puts up with it,
And meanwhile
Your mother is on messenger sending pornographic photos and talking bad about her marriage
full moon! July 25th
With all the heat, a deep golden microphone was born
(I melt you!), from the heart to the speaker,
The real thugs are camouflaged in the park,
Today they wear suits and ties,
They go whoring and leave their children at home
Watching the Serranos until all hours
And they never paid attention,
Underworld of the verse without condition,
They check my demolition flow.

They say what style
I wear loose clothes
They say what style
The bullets I spit are fast as turbines
They say what style
I wear loose clothes
They say what style
Through those alleys behind the dogs.

Your ass will burn! Like after eating a donut,
Your friend saw me in sweatpants and the worries started
Her mustached fascist father eats it up,
He's bitter because his son listens to my songs (poor guy),
I don't know what you're waiting for, fill your fridge, beast,
You're missing something, the thrill of the nurses,
Big-headed brat! And that groupie distracted him,
They seem to have come out of my embryo, they sound a bit lame,
Welcome to the writers' party,
I stain pop singers in thongs with guacamole,
Excuse me, critics can suck my balls,
I tempt fate like Yankees with firearms,
On my lapel "I'm sitting on the steps",
This album is personal, mostly because of the lows,
The master of Sadako, they're in the banks,
They send you six feet under to sleep with the disabled.