Текст и перевод песни Juan D'Arienzo - Chichipia (feat. Alberto Echagüe)

Chichipia (feat. Alberto Echagüe)

Tenés más tierra en el mate
Que la quinta en que tu viejo
La yugó como un enano
Trabajando'e sol a sol.
Y hoy venís a darme dique,
Te lo manyo desde lejos,
Que debajo'e la lustrada
Te está sobrando el puloil.

Te lambés por los muchachos
Del cinema o de la radio,
Sos tordilla o alazana,
Te cambiás siempre el color.
Te engrupieron que sos churro,
La María Félix del barrio
Y andás loca de remate
Por la pinta de un cantor.

¡Chichipía!
Qué te haces la vampiresa
Si tu viejo es laburante,
Tus hermanos atorrantes,
Y son siete en una pieza.
¡Caradura!
Aprendé a ganarte un peso,
Que para hacer una sopa
Tu vieja salvó la ropa
Pidiendo prestado un hueso.
¡Chichipía!
Si vos fueses hija mía
Que biabusa te daría
Pa' sacarte el berretín.

De tanto hacerte la artista,
Te está fallando la antena
Y no vale cuatro cobres
Tu fulero carnaval.
Yo estoy hecho entre malandras
Y por eso me da pena,
Acertar con la quiniela,
Que te espera en el final.

Vos tenés en el marote
Todo un corso a contramano,
Sos un caso de escopeta,
De chaleco y algo más.
Qué favor que nos harías
Si chaparas un bufoso,
Y sin batir ni hasta luego,
De una vez te amasijás.

Chichipia (feat. Alberto Echagüe)

You have more dirt in your mate
Than the farm where your old man
Yoked like a dwarf
Working from dawn to dusk.
And today you come to give me an attitude,
I can see you from afar,
That beneath your polish
You're overflowing with pretense.

You're obsessed with the boys
From the cinema or the radio,
You're a chesnut or a sorrel,
You're always changing your color.
They flattered you by saying you're a hotshot,
The María Félix of the neighborhood
And you're crazy over
The looks of a singer.

Chichipía!
Why do you act like a vamp
If your old man is a working stiff,
Your brothers are thugs,
And there are seven of you in one room.
Shameless!
Learn to earn your way,
Because to make soup
Your old lady saved face
By borrowing a bone.
Chichipía!
If you were my daughter
What a beating I would give you
To get rid of your notions.

From trying to be an artist
Your antenna is failing
And your lousy carnival
Isn't worth four pennies.
I was raised among thugs
And that's why it pains me
To hit the jackpot,
That awaits you in the end.

You have in your head
A whole carnival going in reverse,
You're a case for a shotgun,
A straitjacket, and something more.
What a favor you would do us
If you hooked up with a brute,
And without batting an eye,
You settle down at once.