Текст и перевод песни Cosang - Casa mia

Casa mia

Nisciun o sap quant è difficil p nu guaglion e napl a s'imporr ind a
Società.tutt chell ca agg fatt ind a vita mij accuminciaj pi sfreg e
Po co tiemp è diventat nu stil e vit.a
Gg semp pnsat ca a lott e tutt i juorn putess essr n'ispirazion invec
M'accis mentalment.
E jurnat so punt interrogativ e tu vai annanz e nun dic nient a cas.
E tien na guaglion e viv ind a na stanz e duj metr quadrat e ce a
Ricr ca riman sarà megl.u punt fridd e barbecue.i
Strad alberat i cas popolar marron tutt e razz nsiem.
L'orizzont mij so so raprut e invec e guardà nderr
Mo guard nciel.e vuless ca a genta mij foss chiù felic.
Ntò
Scenn a quot, sagl o vuot
Tuorn e nun saj si truov o buon
Mentr vuol, ansia nguoll
Finalment tuocc o suol
Suonn gruoss, è nu chiuov fiss, muov businness
Che sinistr p duj fitt fitt e nu fridd mist
A micreconomia ricicl o poc
Nu terz e nuj sta miezz a vij, n'atu terz trasloc
Chi rest o prest sold co interess o s'avvilisc
Tra slot, finanziarij pa vacanz e gratt e vinc
Com all'ebrei simm l'emblem ra sopravvivenz
Embè nun teng manc o badget p m fa i gadget
O marciapied è quasi paviment, sap i detersiv
T sient fier i essr viv
RIT
Ma ogni juorn ogni nott ind o juoc è na lott
E p nun falli a valigia s fa u guardarob
Si tu vien a miezz e stient pur i spicc staj accort
Ogni tant e tien, ma chiù spiss e nvient sti sold
Luchè
L'agg fatt p l'ammor de sold
Lasciai napl addo tussev sang
E scetat già stev stanc
O rifiut ra schiavitù legal ma guitat
Rinchius nda miserij, er part ra maggioranz
Ind a sti strad ca t crescn e t schifn
Criatur so fridd e concentrat cu chil ngopp a chil
Vulaj a londr, inghilter, chin e mbruogl e pront p viern
E ogni pustegg bon s'attaccav ngopp a segg
Ma mo vogl turnà addo e mamm allucn "è pront"
Addo e fa sul nu scalin p sta ind a cucin
Addo l'union familiar è fort
E nun avè mai paur
A mort è vist comm passagg a vita miglior
So stanc e spurcà o n'omm i na nazion
A famiglia mij nun vo ma av bisogn e prdon
E accett e ragal e nu figl finalment benestant
Ca nun vo ra u stess passat si addvent padr

My Home

No one knows how hard it is for a Neapolitan boy to make it in
Society. Everything I've done in my life I started as a challenge and
Then over time it became a lifestyle.
I always thought that fighting every day could be an inspiration but instead
It’s killing me mentally.
The days are question marks and you keep going without saying anything, just in case.
And you have a boy living in a two-square-meter room telling him
That what remains will be better. The cold point of the barbecue. The
Streets, the trees, the brown housing projects, all the races together.
My horizons used to be wide open and I would look ahead but
Now I look at the sky. And I wish my people were happier.
Ntò
The price goes down, I jump into the void
I turn and don't know if I'll find good or bad
While I want, anxiety in my throat
Finally, I touch the ground
Loud sound, it's a fixed nail, move business
That sinister for two kids and a cold mist
The microeconomy recycles the little
One third of us is in the middle of the street, another third is moving
Who remains sooner or later is sold with interest or degrades
Between slots, financiers for holidays and scratch cards
Like the Jews, we are the emblem of survival
But I don't even have the budget to get myself gadgets
The sidewalk is almost pavement, it tastes like detergent
You feel proud to be alive
CHORUS
But every day, every night, in the game, it's a fight
And in order not to fail, the suitcase becomes a wardrobe
If you come among these difficulties, even to break stones, be careful
Every now and then you have, but more often you lose this money
Luchè
I did it for the love of money
I left Naples where you spill blood
And I woke up already tired
The refusal of legal slavery but guided
Locked up in misery, the part of the majority
In these streets that raise you and reject you
The creators are cold and concentrated with a thousand knots per thousand
I flew to London, England, China and Marrakech, ready for winter
And every good perch clung to my seat
But now I want to go back where my mother tells someone "he's ready"
Where you only have to go down a step to be in the kitchen
Where family union is strong
And you never have to be afraid
Death is seen as a passage to a better life
I'm tired of getting dirty, a man of a nation
My family doesn't want it, but it needs forgiveness
And accept and give a child finally well-being
Who doesn't want the same past if he becomes a father