Текст и перевод песни Bastardos Del Barrio - Clase 9

Clase 9

Welcome to the warzone, son red pasión
Pasos en falso, son las cuatro A.M. y todavía no descanso.
Con la cara de Ghostface, de cine clase B

Estilo The Ghost Train, busco samples listos motivando su sustain
Ey!, sueños puestos en bromuro.
Libros, listos mis conjuros.
Chicos listos de conjuntos deportivos lo rapean duro.
Estoy torciendo ritmos como si hiciera
Judo, like Nick Fury traje mis escudos.
Rapper's! (Rapper's!), Rapper's! (Rapper's!)
Sueno igual, dame bases pa' que adapte
Rapper's! (Rapper's!), Rapper's! (Rapper's!)
To' for free, To' por mi
Oso ingles like Polo Bear, golpes de hood modo Ali
Che salí!, ese cash es pa'mi. Un Bombapero mas trapero que tu team.
Mmm! ya comí!
Me sigue la police, a mi clan
Por andar con cinco stars como en GTA
Pelando con la nueve, Giroud versus Benzema
En el ghetto, niños blessed like BGK (Like BGK!)
Ven disparos! no le erro, Messi hermano...
En el medio de la party textil caro.
Mis bro's quieren money, claro...
La hacen como magos (como?, como?, como?) Con juegos de mano.
Die! no se como resucito,
Un Jesucristo style, un fucking mito, Da' Munich Grito.
Estricto hijo de Ala, explotan bares, dame el micro.
No suelto mierda, no!, si no es digno.
Estilo sultán, rodeao' de tigres sigo el mismo plan.
Ves peligro como un niño en Neverland. (Son!)
Mijo'no sos Migos deja el Trap... (Deja el trap!)
Mis amigos mas traperos hacen rap. (Hacen Rap!)
Tu party esta vacía, hay un hueco en tu alcancía.
Hay bebidas en el suelo, fuego de Alejandria.
Deje el movimiento mientras le quede su vida,
Si esa mano no da hits, no le va a dar comida.
¿Crocodrile que se duerme es cartera?, no ma negga'
Coco que se duerme, para en víscera.
Un reptil estacionado en mi remera,
Saque ese bobo pa' fuera (Sáquenlo!)
Me drogo y grabo temas. (Yeah!)
Trap son los míos, el Wanted y UKS nena!
No se ese autotunero de quince y vida buena.
Esta vida por elección... con el short...
A las rodillas, Palermo en la selección.
No quiero lo tuyo, busco mi porción.
Con alambre en la frente como Post Malone
Amor por los míos y esta vida distinta.
Traficando prendas vintage

Class 9

Welcome to the warzone, baby, red passion
False steps, it's four A.M. and I still haven't rested.
With the face of Ghostface, from a B-movie

The Ghost Train style, I look for ready samples motivating their sustain
Hey!, dreams put in bromide.
Books, my spells are ready.
Boys in matching tracksuits rap it hard.
I'm twisting rhythms like I'm doing
Judo, like Nick Fury I brought my shields.
Rapper's! (Rapper's!), Rapper's! (Rapper's!)
I sound the same, give me bases to adapt
Rapper's! (Rapper's!), Rapper's! (Rapper's!)
All for free, All for me
English bear like Polo Bear, hood punches Ali mode
Hey, I'm out!, that cash is for me. One Bombapero more trapper than your team.
Mmm! I already ate!
The police are after me, my clan
For walking with five stars like in GTA
Fighting with the nine, Giroud versus Benzema
In the ghetto, blessed children like BGK (Like BGK!)
Shots fired! I don't miss, Messi brother...
In the middle of the party, expensive textile.
My bros want money, of course...
They do it like magicians (how?, how?, how?) With sleight of hand.
Die! I don't know how I resurrect,
A Jesus Christ style, a fucking myth, Da' Munich Scream.
Strict son of Ala, bars explode, give me the mic.
I don't release shit, no!, if it's not worthy.
Sultan style, surrounded by tigers I follow the same plan.
You see danger like a child in Neverland. (They are!)
Son, you're not Migos, leave the Trap... (Leave the trap!)
My most trapper friends do rap. (They do Rap!)
Your party is empty, there's a hole in your piggy bank.
There are drinks on the floor, fire of Alexandria.
Leave the movement while you still have your life,
If that hand doesn't give hits, it won't give you food.
Sleeping crocodile is a wallet?, no ma negga'
Sleeping coconut ends up in the viscera.
A reptile parked on my shirt,
Get that fool out (Get him out!)
I get high and record songs. (Yeah!)
Trap are mine, the Wanted and UKS babe!
I don't know that autotuner with fifteen and good life.
This life by choice... with the shorts...
To the knees, Palermo in the national team.
I don't want what's yours, I'm looking for my portion.
With wire on my forehead like Post Malone
Love for my people and this different life.
Trafficking vintage clothes