Текст и перевод песни Blake feat. Al2 El Aldeano - God School

God School

El Rey está en la oca,
Mi flow en tu bocina,
Tus homies diciendo "ole",
Este tio es un máquina,
Saca tu contrato de la esquina,
Que aquí somos serios,
Como un cementerio en medio de la neblina,
Nací con un Don (voz), que uso en pos del progreso,
La humanidad se odia no puedo ignorar eso,
Tu te crees que puedes comprarme con unos pesos,
No es posible, tengo muchos amigos que están presos,
Cuando sonó el silbato yo salí contrario,
Novato, más libreta que zapato en el armario,
Por eso para muchos siempre seré un legendario,
Porque al mirarme a la cara ya están viendo la del barrio,
He cambiado pero soy el mismo de antes,
Intento mantenerme distante de los farsantes,
No vengas a hablarme de tus modas, ignorante,
Que te doy una de hostias que te cagas al instante,
Flow a la bolognesa punchline a la carbonara,
Ando con el Blake, desmayando MC, borrando caras,
Pa saber el tiempo que Aldito rapea y no para
Vas a tener que meter dentro del reloj completo al zara
Dime quien para esta avalancha,
Esta es nuestra cancha,
Pierdes el partido y la revancha,
Estoy relajado, piernas abiertas a mis anchas,
Que a la misma vez que escribo me estoy haciendo unas planchas,
Mi boli está hechizado,
Mis musas tienen mal carácter, hoy mi crimen si es organizado,
Jamás seré un producto para tu puto mercado,
Mi talento es para mi gente, por la fuerza que me han dado.

No nos hables de niveles, anda y danos un boli,
Y pon en fila india esos papeles,
No se nos ve mucho por la radio y por la tele,
Pero hacemos que muchos raperos se desvelen,
Pintamos la realidad con nuestos pinceles,
Decimos lo que sentimos aunque shows nos los cancelen,
Si lo que cantamos de alguna forma te duele,
Entonces cómprate una polla eléctrica que te consuele,
No saben de la vida y me hablan,
Quieren ir por las malas,
No entiendo bien ese plan que traman,
Pero conmigo no cuenten jamás, no,
Que les jodan,
A tu industria de modas de mierda,
Que les jodan,
Lo que nos ponen en sus radios de mierda,
Que les jodan,
Yo he venido aquí a contar la verdad,
Que les jodan,
No cuenten conmigo, no!.

No nos hables de niveles,,
O estatus, peleles,
Esto es rap de calidad,
No el que te cuentan por la tele,
Estoy al margen de tus modas,
De mi no esperen verme en,
Videoclips de mierda denigrando a las mujeres,
Se que duele,
Que tenga que venir yo a decir lo que todo el mundo sabe,
Pero nadie aquí se atreve,
Están matando el ser alguien que piensa porque quiere,
Y sabe distinguir la vida real de lo que ve en las redes,
Me dais asco, vivo entre ratas de cloaca,
Donde cogen con inútil sin talento y le dan plata,
Lo sacan por la radio nos lo venden como "El Papa",
Le quito el autotune y en directo me suena a caca,
Yo represento a los que escriben con el corazón a pelo,
Los que cambian algo los que abren los ojos, créelo,
No estoy aquí para hacerme mi negocio y mi dinero,
Y si lo gano es porque yo me lo he ganado por mis huevos,
Esto es B.L.K no busques la copia, no existe,
Soy esa luz que brilla al fondo de tus ojos tristes,
Un loco que aparece una vez al siglo y se nota,
Y cada vez que abre la boca es lo mejor que en mucho oíste,
Boom,
Suena boom-clap, rap de altura,
De miras, de mensaje, lo mejor de España y Cuba,
Boom,
Quieren competir conmigo? a' que?
Decirle a Willy Wonka tú lo que es el chocolate?
Cállate!
No soy el Anuel de turno,
No tengo aros de oro pero me llaman Saturno,
Tengo el corazón negro mucho más que el pulmón,
Y una mente enferma que funciona en modo nocturno.

No nos hables de niveles, anda y danos un boli,
Y pon en fila india esos papeles,
No se nos ve mucho por la radio y por la tele,
Pero hacemos que muchos raperos se desvelen,
Pintamos la realidad con nuestos pinceles,
Decimos lo que sentimos aunque shows nos los cancelen,
Si lo que cantamos de alguna forma te duele,
Entonces cómprate una polla eléctrica que te consuele,
No saben de la vida y me hablan,
Quieren ir por las malas,
No entiendo bien ese plan que traman,
Pero conmigo no cuenten jamás, no,
Que les jodan,
A tu industria de modas de mierda,
Que les jodan,
Lo que nos ponen en sus radios de mierda,
Que les jodan,
Yo he venido aquí a contar la verdad,
Que les jodan,
No cuenten conmigo, no!

God School

The King is on the goose,
My flow in your speaker,
Your homies saying "ole",
This guy is a machine,
Get your contract out of the corner,
Because here we are serious,
Like a cemetery in the middle of the fog,
I was born with a Gift (voice), that I use in pursuit of progress,
Humanity hates itself, I can't ignore that,
You think you can buy me with a few pesos,
It's not possible, I have many friends who are in jail,
When the whistle blew I went against the grain,
Rookie, more notebook than shoes in the closet,
That's why for many I will always be a legend,
Because when they look at my face, they are already seeing the one from the neighborhood,
I've changed but I'm still the same as before,
I try to keep my distance from phonies,
Don't come and talk to me about your fads, ignorant,
That I give you one of hosts that you shit instantly,
Flow to the bolognese punchline to the carbonara,
I'm with Blake, knocking out MC's, erasing faces,
To know how long Aldito raps and doesn't stop
You're going to have to put the whole Zara inside the clock
Tell me who can stop this avalanche,
This is our court,
You lose the game and the rematch,
I'm relaxed, legs wide open,
That at the same time I write I'm doing some ironing,
My pen is enchanted,
My muses are in a bad mood, today my crime is organized,
I will never be a product for your fucking market,
My talent is for my people, for the strength they have given me.

Don't talk to us about levels, go ahead and give us a pen,
And put those papers in single file,
We are not seen much on the radio and on TV,
But we make a lot of rappers lose sleep,
We paint reality with our brushes,
We say what we feel even if they cancel our shows,
If what we sing hurts you in any way,
Then buy yourself an electric dick to comfort you,
They don't know about life and they talk to me,
They want to go the wrong way,
I don't quite understand the plan they're hatching,
But don't ever count on me, no,
Fuck them,
To your shitty fashion industry,
Fuck them,
What they put on their shitty radios,
Fuck them,
I came here to tell the truth,
Fuck them,
Don't count on me, no!.

Don't talk to us about levels,,
Or status, puppets,
This is quality rap,
Not what they tell you on TV,
I'm on the sidelines of your fads,
Don't expect to see me in,
Shitty video clips denigrating women,
It hurts, I know,
That I have to come here to say what everyone knows,
But nobody here dares,
They are killing the being someone who thinks because he wants to,
And knows how to distinguish real life from what he sees on the networks,
You disgust me, I live among sewer rats,
Where they take a useless, untalented person and give him money,
They put him on the radio and sell him to us as "The Pope",
I take away the autotune and live it sounds like shit to me,
I represent those who write with their hearts on their sleeves,
Those who change something, those who open their eyes, believe it,
I'm not here to make my business and my money,
And if I earn it, it's because I earned it by my balls,
This is B.L.K don't look for the copy, it doesn't exist,
I am that light that shines at the back of your sad eyes,
A madman who appears once a century and it shows,
And every time he opens his mouth it's the best thing you've ever heard,
Boom,
Sounds boom-clap, high-altitude rap,
Of sights, of message, the best of Spain and Cuba,
Boom,
They want to compete with me? To what?
Tell Willy Wonka what chocolate is?
Shut up!
I'm not your average Anuel,
I don't have gold rings but they call me Saturn,
My heart is black, much more so than my lung,
And a sick mind that works in night mode.

Don't talk to us about levels, go ahead and give us a pen,
And put those papers in single file,
We are not seen much on the radio and on TV,
But we make a lot of rappers lose sleep,
We paint reality with our brushes,
We say what we feel even if they cancel our shows,
If what we sing hurts you in any way,
Then buy yourself an electric dick to comfort you,
They don't know about life and they talk to me,
They want to go the wrong way,
I don't quite understand the plan they're hatching,
But don't ever count on me, no,
Fuck them,
To your shitty fashion industry,
Fuck them,
What they put on their shitty radios,
Fuck them,
I came here to tell the truth,
Fuck them,
Don't count on me, no.