Текст и перевод песни Granuja feat. Crudo Means Raw - Colombian Gold

Colombian Gold

Ella quiere ese rosado, traiga esa nariz pa′cá
No es del barrio mija, este es del original
Siempre fui el mismo
Y siempre lo prestaron sin hacer la del pisco
Se dejan dar el mordisco
Directo pa'l motel y sin parar en la disco
Sé que no soy el más pispo
Y no muestro el encoñe pa′ que no me deje en visto

Lámpara te comparas con el Don Dadda
No azara ni con Timberland ni bandana
Te enteraran si las miradas me mataran
No encara ni se salvará por la campana
Mi léxico es tantrico en métricas
La grasa que se traga hasta la atlética
Now keep it on, keep it raw, funky fresco
Ustedes aman el rap y el rap los tiene en la friendzone

Yes, yo, quiero el Beamer y el Benzo
Pa' ir soplado como peli de Nintendo
God damn hoe, here we go again
El juego se pasmó, Moebiuz te hundió el reset
¡Ay! Respect págalo con respect
Mi texto sobre el beat son guisos pa' bistec, uh huh
Motherfucking microphone check, uh huh
Sigo entrenando el flow como un atleta
Rayándome la torre con la letra
Por eso no tengo mente para marcarle esta jeta
Créalo, crudo y sin anfeta
Tate quieta y saca tu mano de mi caleta

Desde que mi tía pellizcaba mis cachetes
He sido un jefe con mi mente en los pecheches
Poco contenido pa′ tanto paquete
Al aludido le entró ardiendo como catéter
What′s up son?

What? Todos tienen que comer
Todos tiene qué comer, uh huh
Tienen qué comer, tienen qué comer
MBZ in the house baby
Granuggio on the beat
Ain't she sweet?
Yeah, Medellín baby

Colombian Gold

She wants that pink, bring that nose hither
She's not from the neighborhood my girl, this is from the original
I've always been the same
And they've always borrowed it without playing the role of the pisco
They let themselves take the bite
Straight to the motel and without stopping at the disco
I know I'm not the most clever
And I don't show my pain so you don't leave me on seen

You compare yourself with Don Dadda
You don't measure up even with Timberland or a bandana
They'll bury you if looks could kill
You don't measure up and you won't be saved by the bell
My lexicon is tantric in metrics
The fat that you swallow even the athletic
Now keep it on, keep it raw, funky fresco
You love rap and rap has you in the friendzone

Yes, I, want the Beamer and the Benzo
To go high as a kite like a Nintendo movie
God damn hoe, here we go again
The game has stalled, Moebiuz has sunk you the reset
Hey! Respect pay it with respect
My lyrics on the beat are stews for steak, uh huh
Motherfucking microphone check, uh huh
I keep training the flow like an athlete
Scratching my mind with the lyrics
That's why I don't have the mind to dial this face
Believe it, raw and without amphetamine
Be still and get your hand out of my alley

Since my aunt pinched my cheeks
I've been a boss with my mind on the pecheches
Little content for so much package
The referenced one caught fire like a catheter
What's up son?

What? Everyone has to eat
Everyone has to eat, uh huh
They have to eat, they have to eat
MBZ in the house baby
Granuggio on the beat
Ain't she sweet?
Yeah, Medellín baby