Текст и перевод песни Ander Bock - Mi Moda

Mi Moda

Tú tienes tu moda
No te hablen de calle
Te la sabes toda
Bebes ron con soda
Y terminas hablando raro
Como Yoda
Tu vida se enloda
Te dicen demente
La gente te apoda
No crees en la boda
No crees en amor
Solo crees en la droga
Así no dialoga
Como un demente
Tú te catalogas
Pelo de colores
Mujeres pandilla
Pandillas te ahogan
Tú eres la rabia
Lo más calle, lo más dura
Que ha pasao' por aquí
Tus panas son fieles
Leales a toda
Ellos se mueren por ti
Lo tuyo es beber y fumar
Beber y fumar
Hasta que se agota
Pensando que puede llenar
Que puede llenar
Esa vida rota
Dices que nadie te derrota
Que el bolsillo se te abarrota
Oliendo, fumando, bebiendo
Hasta que el cerebro
Casi se te explota
Lo tuyo es decirle
A las mujeres gatas
Cachorras, marranas
Pero matas a tus panas
Si le dicen lo mismo a tu hermana
Pepa, María, Juana
A estas cosas nadie compara
Luego le doy gracias a Dios
Por todo el dinero que tú te gana
Pana, esa es tu moda?
Gucci, ferragamo
Versace comprada?
Hay que aplaudirte la entrada
Sin hacer filas en la entrada
Tú dices que nadie te agrada
Y que la lealtad es sagrada
Pero llegas a tu cama
Y terminas llorando en tu almohada
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
No, no... No, no, no
No... No, no, no
Mi moda no es igual que la tuya bro'
No pasa mi moda bro'
No pasa mi flow
Mi moda fue en el cielo que se diseñó
Mis tenis no son Balenciaga
Me siento cómodo con Vans
La gente que escucha mi música
Son mis hermanos no les llamo fans
Mi novia no exhibe su cuerpo
No tiene que ponerse implantes
No debo tener cinco mujeres
Para sentirme que soy gangster
En mi fiesta no se fuma hierba
Lo más que me bebo es refresco
No tengo enemigos solo satanás
Y en mis canciones lo desvanezco
Yo no critico tu estilo
Quiero evitar tu sepelio
Pues así me entiendes Cornelio
Lo mejor es el evangelio
Ra, cata, bam, bam, blash
Llegó Ander Bock rápido como un flash
Flow que propone
No se impone con cash
Ni con millonarios
Sin usar Maybach
Vas atroz
Vine a quitarte la tos
Rompiendo y haciendo
Estragos con mi voz
Soy hijo de Dios y lo sabes voz
Que como yo no existen dos
Do you know you
Come play with me?
Demasiado real para ti?
Como el flow que tengo sobre mi beat
Yo soy wannabe
Con el mal que viví
Para siempre dividí
Con tu vara que medís
Las bolas me las medí
Sí sé que me excedí
Pero ya me arrepentí uh, uh
Mi vida sentí con palabra para ti
El enemigo derretí
En su raza me metí
Llegaremos a thaití
Como te prometí
Pero nunca me batí
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda
Yo tengo tu moda, yo tengo mi moda

My Style

You have your style
Don't talk about the streets
You know it all
You drink rum with soda
And you end up talking funny
Like Yoda
Your life gets muddy
They call you crazy
People nickname you
You don't believe in weddings
You don't believe in love
You only believe in drugs
That's not how you talk
Like a madman
You categorize yourself
Colored hair
Girl gangs
Gangs drown you
You are the rage
The most street, the hardest
That has passed through here
Your friends are faithful
Loyal to everything
They would die for you
Your thing is to drink and smoke
Drink and smoke
Until it runs out
Thinking it can fill
That it can fill
That broken life
You say that no one defeats you
That your pocket overflows
Smelling, smoking, drinking
Until your brain
Almost explodes
Your thing is to call
Women cats
Bitches, pigs
But you kill your friends
If they say the same to your sister
Pepa, María, Juana
Nobody compares to these things
Then I thank God
For all the money you earn
Dude, is that your style?
Gucci, Ferragamo
Versace bought?
We must applaud your entrance
Without queuing at the entrance
You say that nobody pleases you
And that loyalty is sacred
But you get to your bed
And you end up crying on your pillow
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
No, no... No, no, no
No... No, no, no
My style is not the same as yours, bro'
My style doesn't pass, bro'
My flow doesn't pass
My style was designed in heaven
My shoes are not Balenciaga
I feel comfortable with Vans
The people who listen to my music
They are my brothers, I don't call them fans
My girlfriend doesn't show off her body
She doesn't have to get implants
I don't have to have five women
To feel like I'm a gangster
We don't smoke weed at my party
The most I drink is soda
I have no enemies, only Satan
And in my songs I vanish him
I don't criticize your style
I want to avoid your funeral
So you understand me, Cornelius
The best is the gospel
Ra, cata, bam, bam, blash
Ander Bock arrived fast as a flash
Flow that proposes
It is not imposed with cash
Nor with millionaires
Without using Maybach
You're atrocious
I came to take away your cough
Breaking and doing
Havoc with my voice
I am a son of God and you know it
That there are no two like me
Do you know you
Come play with me?
Too real for you?
Like the flow I have on my beat
I am a wannabe
With the evil I lived
Forever divided
With your rod that you measure
I measured my balls
Yes, I know I overdid it
But I already repented uh, uh
I felt my life with words for you
I melted the enemy
I got into his race
We will reach Thailand
As I promised you
But I never fought
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style
I have your style, I have my style