Текст и перевод песни Cachorro Grande - Electromod

Electromod

Tão achando que são o quê?
Que vocês não vão se foder?
Tão achando que são o bicho
Monte de merda, monte de lixo

Não sabe beber
Depois vem dizer que eu não tô legal
Vota no PT
Depois vem pagar de intelectual
Fora do DCE
Não sabe como é, a vida real

Não gosta de rock
Cheio de não me toques
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Me tiram pra loki
Amarrou um coque
A barba cresceu

Foi no festival
Depois falou mal
Não se convenceu
Fazendo passeata
Aquela gente chata
Acha que é carnaval

Spray de pimenta
Ninguém te aguenta
Rango natural
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Tão achando que são o quê?
Que vocês não vão se foder?
Tão achando que são o bicho
Monte de merda, monte de lixo

Enchendo linguiça
Apanha da polícia
E acha genial
Vem do interior
Apê papai pagou
Morar na capital

Começou um blog
Agora virou pop
Escreve no jornal

Nova MPB
Não tem o que dizer
Turminha meio pau
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Electromod

Who do you think you are?
Do you think you're immune to consequences?
You think you're so cool,
But you're nothing but a pile of garbage.

You can't even hold your liquor.
Then you have the nerve to say I'm not okay?
You vote for the PT.
Then you pretend to be an intellectual.
Get out of the student union.
You don't know how the real world works.

You don't like rock music.
You're so full of yourself.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You think I'm crazy,
But you're the one who's wearing a man bun,
And your beard is all scraggly.

You went to the festival,
But then you talked trash about it.
You didn't get it.
You're just another protester,
And you're annoying.
You think it's a party.

Get pepper-sprayed.
No one can stand you.
You eat organic food.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Who do you think you are?
Do you think you're immune to consequences?
You think you're so cool,
But you're nothing but a pile of garbage.

You're always complaining,
You get beaten up by the police,
And you think it's great.
You come from the countryside,
Your parents pay for your apartment.
You think you're living in the big city.

You started a blog,
Now you're a pop star.
You write for the newspaper.

New Brazilian popular music,
You have nothing to say.
You're a bunch of losers.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.