Mikrofone dinstam - Sinovatz traduction en anglais

Mikrofone dinstam

Šta to zavija gore na brdu, kakav je to zvuk!?
Na geto dijeti gadno izgladneli džuk'!
Starim bajonetom pradedinim ljuštim crni luk,
držim recepte na umu jer sam srol'o u rhyme book.
'Cause ain't no such thing as halfway cook,
ni duboka mafija, ništa na pola.
Ja kad srolam kupus mog' na'ranim ceo puk,
da prste pojedu, da ne bude ratova.
Ja cirkam i kuvam, izuvam, k'o narodni kuvar,
da o'ladim, uzmem pa duvam i duvam.
Ogladnim, pa d-gla u želudac muva,
dok gruva vrućina i gori vuruna.
Sabijem u njuma o'ma rima soma kila,
pa preko nasečem štapinu trotila.
Da Bog da otpala il' se osušila,
ruka od di džeja što ga nije zavrtila!
Ja mikrofone dinstam dok ti se foliraš
Nađi me u hudu - koja sam ja Carina
Mikrofone dinstam dok ti se foliraš
Nađi me u hudu!
Nađi me u hudu!
Jesen je u hudu, na ulice pada lišće.
Duboke patike, na paprike sve miriše.
U šporetu, od kiše, taze mokra drva šište
k'o reperi zadjih dana, ne zna se ko više.
Šporet opet liči na Barak Obamu.
Ručak je taj najvažniji obrok u danu.
Uvek se derem i jebavam mamu,
kad moj je red da ribam i spremam 'ranu.
Da je ringla od vinila možda bi manje debila,
tripovalo, trepovalo, glumilo ludila.
Sav taj keš, kriminal, belo, tozla, vila,
nisu stvarni bajo, to si samo ti drogiran.
Zavrni rukave, sedi, kusaj iz tanjira.
Trebaće ti snage kada ti ćale šlogira,
kad mu bolnica izgori ceo štek papira,
kad te život kao makro po štajgi zađira.
Vojna pošta Carina, tu se kuva kazan.
11 soma 303 izraza i fraza.
Kao pasulj - prazan, prost sam i namazan.
Kad za sebe kažem gazda, to je pleonazam.
Nađi me u hudu, ne pitaj se di sam.
Možda indirektno, ali uvek nekog dissam.
Nikad ništa instant, uvek kuvam, dinstam,
do srži upržim i tek ti onda vim-sta.
Po starom receptu Grejema Janga,
mešam, pa gadna širi se magla.
Rukama mlataram, greje se vangla
rimama mantram k'o baba Vanga.
Ovo te šljaka k'o burundanga.
Cepa k'o satara, seče k'o tanga.
Upokojava ti glave od ganga,
ostaje samo večnaja pamjat!
Večnaja pamjat!
Večnaja pamjat!
Ja mikrofone dinstam dok ti se foliraš
Nađi me u hudu - koja sam ja Carina
Mikrofone dinstam dok ti se foliraš
Nađi me u hudu!
Nađi me u hudu!
U hudu
Hud-hudu
Hud-hudu
U hudu
Mikrofone dinstam
Hud-hudu, hud-hud-hudu
Carina!

Microphones are Simmering

What's that howling up on the hill, what kind of sound is that!?
A stray dog, starving on a ghetto diet, that's what!
With my great-grandfather's old bayonet, I'm peeling an onion, black,
keeping the recipes in mind 'cause I rolled them up in my rhyme book.
'Cause ain't no such thing as a halfway cook,
no shallow mafia, nothing halfway done.
When I roll up some cabbage, girl, I can feed a whole platoon,
enough for them to lick their fingers, so there'll be no more wars, none.
I sip and I cook, I take off my shoes, like a people's chef you see,
to cool down, I take a hit and puff, puff, puff for me.
I get hungry, then d- hunger flies into my belly,
while the heat blasts and the burner's blazing steadily.
I pack a hundred kilos of rhymes in my mind, so heavy,
then I slice a stick of TNT on top, ready.
God forbid it falls off or dries out, you see,
the hand of the DJ who didn't spin it properly!
I'm simmering microphones while you're just playing pretend
Find me in the hood - I'm Carina, girl, to the very end.
I'm simmering microphones while you're just playing pretend
Find me in the hood!
Find me in the hood!
Autumn's in the hood, leaves are falling on the street.
High-top sneakers, everything smells of peppers, sweet.
In the stove, from the rain, fresh wet wood hisses and it sings,
like rappers these days, who knows who brings what it brings.
The stove looks like Barack Obama again, I swear.
Lunch is the most important meal of the day, my dear.
I'm always yelling and cursing, giving hell, I don't care,
when it's my turn to scrub and prepare the meal, it's only fair.
If the burner was made of vinyl, maybe there'd be fewer fools,
tripping, trembling, acting like crazy tools.
All that cash, crime, white powder, villas, and such,
aren't real, darling, you're just high as much.
Roll up your sleeves, sit down, and eat from your plate.
You'll need your strength when your dad has a stroke, it's fate,
when the hospital burns down his whole stash of paper, it's too late,
when life kicks you around like a crate, it's hard to relate.
Military Post Office Carina, that's where the cauldron brews.
11 thousand 303 expressions and phrases, it's true.
Like beans - empty, simple, and covered in grease.
When I call myself the boss, it's a pleonasm, if you please.
Find me in the hood, don't ask where I am.
Maybe indirectly, but I'm always dissing some man.
Never anything instant, I always cook, I simmer slow,
fry it to the core, and then, and only then, you know.
Following Graham Young's old recipe, you see,
I mix it up, and a nasty fog spreads free.
I wave my hands, the pan is heating up, it's hot,
I chant with rhymes like Baba Vanga, I will not be caught.
This hits you hard like burundanga, so strong.
Rips like a scimitar, cuts like a thong.
Soothes your head from the ganja all along,
only eternal memory remains, my song.
Eternal memory!
Eternal memory!
I'm simmering microphones while you're just playing pretend
Find me in the hood - I'm Carina, girl, to the very end.
I'm simmering microphones while you're just playing pretend
Find me in the hood!
Find me in the hood!
In the hood
Hood-hood
Hood-hood
In the hood
Simmering microphones
Hood-hood, hood-hood-hood
Carina!