Текст и перевод песни Jefe de la M feat. Dogma - Cambiarme de Chandal

Cambiarme de Chandal

Vienen con mama y pretenden que me cambie el chandal
¿No te gusta el pantalon?, ni a mi tu cara y no la cambias
No es tu padre en tanga
A alguno le explota la gorra
Y sin motivo aclaman al rap y a bisbal en la misma semana...
Cago en tu boca abierta,
Solo una percha pa este chandal, cara mierda,
Os detecté buscando a tientas,
Nací con él, comí con él, vestí con él,
Os conocí con él, me enamoré con él, cagué con él porque...
Yo no me cambio imbecil, ve a tu madre alcohólica
Dile que dogma y jefe pusieron tu culo en órbita
Son meritos aridos, secos como arizona

Llegan con la lengua afuera, no es broma, que nos la coman...

24 años no pesan, pero mi vieja piensa
Que con el rap se me ha ido la pinza,
Que no ando muy bien de la cabeza,
La pobre mujer siente siempre pavor por mis viajes,
Miente, inventa peligros que no hay ni en libros pa que me raje
Dicen para que me baje de la nube donde normalmente estoy
No soy un personaje mama te presento al formamento b-boy
Voy desde los noventa y este puto largo representa
Y ahora te presenta el rap de la forma mas clara para que os deis cuenta de que
Esto no es un puto trueque donde todo se puede cambiar
La vas a liar tu personalidad es lo primero que debes equilibrar,
Puto paquete el microfono no es un jugete para peques
Yo solo busco poderme pillar mi propio filete en este guateque de arquiteque
Es como una lucha constante y diaria hasta que me muera
Se que muchos fracasaron a la primera y se quedaron fuera

Asi que defequen, y comanse su propia mierda mientras puedan
Porque por mucho que quiera
Aqui no veo las marcas de vuestras suelas

No me cambio el chandal... dogma crew y jefe y tu gorra estalla
No me cambio el chandal... sin religion mi dios vive en mi walkman
No me cambio el chandal... karate kimura niñato manda,
No me cambio el chandal... ese es el rap sucio que te empalma.

Tu haces rap, porque te cambiaste de chandal
Dogma con bobby lo, sevilla, malaga en banda cooperacion
Putos traidores que ya no estan quedaron en el recuerdo
No hay piedad de nuestros versos somos perros,
Seguimos agiles creyeron ver nuestro tendon de aquiles
Sureño raper antes cientos, ahora miles,
Deja que desfilen en su pasarela de moda, de rap
Que se piren bobby lo no se piensa quedar a acusar
Dos mil tres es el año del dragon quien da mas

Tal vez podreis negar que pueda dejaros atras
Mi estilo es Jet-Kundo y por eso mejora
Quieres competicion pide la hora puta mando yo en mi zona
Mi barrio la colonia juro pasareis a la historia
Tu gloria sera breve por eso nos odia
Haremos el mal para tu grupo de rap
Para tu clan ahora intenta cambiarte de chandal

[Hijo Pró
Ahora toca ir de hippy y acerse rastas en la polla
No, mejor ir de tripi en discotecas de paranoia
Con cocainomanas que te follan y la banderita de españa en el niki
Basta yo no me cambio de chandal
Tienes cara de pajo como gandalf,
Se afina mi garganta, nos follamos tu autoestima
Como un violador estoy encima, prima
Deja que esto fluya y en el brazo pinchate heroina

Que en sevilla y malaga se murmulla
Que el jefe y su tecnica de la grulla es la unica que manda y domina,
Tu solo escuchame idiota
Que se de sobra que mi rap te descoloca
Como preguntarle a tu madre si algun novio suyo se corrio en su boca
Os dolio si vio monos os odio mas que a Pilar Miró
Somos emcees de kimonos
Yo grabo mis varios en cintas de cromo.

No hay lugar a dudas de que dogma crew no se cambia el chandal
Puede ser que seas gordito y lamentable como un panda
No uso bufanda ni si quiera estudio en la lou
Me encontrarás tirado en el suelo de la taberna de Mou.

Hija de puta no me enseñe las bragas mas
Te metere por el coño un mueble de cocina hasta hacerte rebentar
El jefe manda, como el juani hacemos propaganda,
Es como llevar vaqueros anchos y ponerte en minifalda
El demonio te empala
En tu sangre falta el plasma
Paso de tu chaleco del cocodrilo, aqui tienes la rata
Trae el rap cloaca
Sumergete y no digas nada
5 cabrones buscados por tierra y mar vente pa malaga...

No me cambio el chandal... dogma crew y jefe y tu gorra estalla
No me cambio el chandal... sin religion mi dios vive en mi walkman
No me cambio el chandal... karate kimura niñato manda,
No me cambio el chandal... ese es el rap sucio que te empalma.

Changing My Tracksuit

They come with mommy and expect me to change my tracksuit
You don't like the pants? Well, I don't like your face, and you don't change it.
This ain't your daddy in a thong
Some heads are about to explode
And without reason they acclaim rap and Bisbal in the same week...
I shit in your open mouth,
Only one bitch for this tracksuit, you shitty face,
I detected you searching tentatively,
I was born with it, ate with it, dressed with it,
I met you with it, fell in love with it, shit with it because...
I ain't changing, you imbecile, go to your alcoholic mother
Tell her that Dogma and Jefe put your ass into orbit
These are arid merits, dry as Arizona

They come with their tongues hanging out, it's no joke, let them suck it...

24 years don't weigh much, but my old lady thinks
That rap has driven me crazy,
That my head ain't right,
The poor woman always feels terrified by my trips,
She lies, invents dangers that aren't even in books to make me laugh
They say it to bring me down from the cloud where I normally am
I ain't no character, mama, let me introduce you to the b-boy formation
I've been going since the nineties and this fucking journey represents
And now I present rap to you in the clearest way so you can realize that
This ain't no fucking barter where everything can be changed
You gonna mess up, your personality is the first thing you need to balance,
Fucking package, the microphone ain't no toy for kids
I'm just looking to grab my own steak in this architect's guateque
It's like a constant, daily struggle until I die
I know many failed on the first try and stayed out

So defecate, and eat your own shit while you can
Because as much as I want
I don't see the marks of your soles here

I won't change my tracksuit... Dogma Crew and Jefe, and your cap explodes
I won't change my tracksuit... Without religion, my god lives in my Walkman
I won't change my tracksuit... Karate Kimura, little boy commands,
I won't change my tracksuit... That's the dirty rap that gets you going.

You do rap because you changed your tracksuit
Dogma with Bobby Lo, Seville, Malaga in band cooperation
Fucking traitors who are no longer here are left in memory
There is no mercy in our verses, we are dogs,
We remain agile, they thought they saw our Achilles' tendon
Southern rapper before hundreds, now thousands,
Let them parade on their catwalk, their rap fashion show
Let them get out, Bobby Lo ain't gonna stay to accuse
2003 is the year of the dragon, who gives more

Maybe you can deny that I can leave you behind
My style is Jeet Kune Do, and that's why it gets better
You want competition, ask for the time, bitch, I rule my zone
My neighborhood, the colony, I swear you will go down in history
Your glory will be short, that's why they hate us
We will do evil to your rap group
To your clan, now try changing your tracksuit

[Hijo Pró
Now it's time to go hippie and get dreadlocks on your dick
No, better to go trippin' in paranoid nightclubs
With cokehead chicks who fuck you and the Spanish flag on the Niki
Enough, I won't change my tracksuit
You got a face like a joint, like Gandalf,
My throat is tuned, we'll fuck your self-esteem
Like a rapist, I'm on top of you, cuz
Let this flow and inject heroin in your arm

That in Seville and Malaga they whisper
That the Jefe and his crane technique is the only one that rules and dominates,
You just listen to me, idiot
I know for sure that my rap throws you off
Like asking your mother if any of her boyfriends came in her mouth
It hurt you, if you saw monkeys, I hate you more than Pilar Miró
We are kimono MCs
I record my albums on chrome tapes.

There is no doubt that Dogma Crew does not change their tracksuit
You might be chubby and pitiful like a panda
I don't wear a scarf or even study at the LOU
You'll find me lying on the floor of Mou's tavern.

Bitch, don't show me your panties anymore
I'll shove kitchen furniture up your pussy till you burst
The Jefe rules, like Juani we do propaganda,
It's like wearing baggy jeans and putting on a miniskirt
The devil impales you
Your blood lacks plasma
Forget your crocodile vest, here's the rat
Bring the sewer rap
Submerge and don't say anything
5 bastards wanted by land and sea, go to Malaga...

I won't change my tracksuit... Dogma Crew and Jefe, and your cap explodes
I won't change my tracksuit... Without religion, my god lives in my Walkman
I won't change my tracksuit... Karate Kimura, little boy commands,
I won't change my tracksuit... That's the dirty rap that gets you going.