Текст и перевод песни Killa Fonic feat. Doc - Din Mahala la Palat

Din Mahala la Palat

DO RE MI FA, note de subsol, cioaca
Dar tu n-ai gust, si pasarea e dulceaga
Cu mare bust din patria lu' Buruchagga,
Imi vine sa ma bat pe mine insumi, ba, adu nunchaku, huh,
Cand tac inseamna ca nu ma bag in seama,
Rapul vostru ciorba de legume nu ma bag in zeama,
Va ganditi sa-mi ciorditi dume, poate nu bag de seama,
Luati, mai fac inca pe-atatea cand mc diseara, PSSST!!!
Killa tine minte cum e omu-i si repul,
Stralucesc impreuna precum cromul si becul,
Sau se golesc impreuna cu romul si Keg-ul,
Vocatia n-are nevoie de reguli, adevar,
Tine fratii aproape, si din ce-ai imparte,
Ia sticla asta frate, io beau ceai la party,
Ca tot ce dai se-ntoarce, sunt Jedi pe pace,
Mare forta dupa ce fac torta dintr un pai cu cancer...
Din mahala la palat,
De la pijama la halat,
Mai sare cate-un zero, l-am barat,
Ma las cand mi-aduce curierul cerul ambalat.
Oh mami pustiu' se ridica ca din morti mami,
Scoala nu-i da scoala cum ii da strada mami,
Mutra nu i-o coace varsta ci viata mami
Ani de zile dupa pustiu' musca din ei mami,
Pustiu' ala care a strigat me garda la concert pe masa,
Sprijinit de 2 gabori spart cu banii in plasa,
Bagabont cu coaie grase, Cioceanu Ploiesti,
Binecuvantat alaturi de legende in Bucuresti,
Cu $atra B. E. N. Z familia n-a fost vorba de Mercedes,
Nu-i vorba de copii de bani gata asta e Progres!
Din mahala la palat,
De la carpati la kalash,
De la cacat la cacat,
De la furat la cantat,
Din mahala la palat,
Din mahala m-au fatat!
O Doamne mama imi zice ca sunt lord tata,
Oi fi eu fin dar fac urat si las sange pe strada,
Astia ma provoaca ma instiga ma irita,
Si cand ii prind pe strada Bap! Bap! fac risipa,
Nu ma doare daca ii bag direct in reanimare,
Dar parca simt pe fata lacrima unei mame,
Multi ignoranti pustani cu glasu' mare,
Inconstienti pica in groapa sau in spitale,
Saracia face din om o fiara,
Sistemul asta pute a gluma proasta iara,
Afiliat cu bagabonti si afaceristi tata,
Sange pe camasa dar am fata imaculata

From the Hood to the Palace

DO RE MI FA, notes from the underground, crow
But you have no taste, and the bird is sweet
With a big bust, from the homeland of Buruchagga,
I feel like beating myself up, man, bring the nunchaku, huh,
When I'm silent it means I'm not paying attention,
Your rap, a vegetable soup, I'm not dipping in,
You're thinking of stealing my rhymes, maybe I won't notice,
Take it, I'll make even more when I MC tonight, PSSST!!!
Killa remembers what man and repulsion are like,
We shine together like chrome and a light bulb,
Or we empty together with rum and a keg,
Vocation doesn't need rules, it's true,
Keep your brothers close, and from what you have, share,
Take this bottle, brother, I'm drinking tea at the party,
Because everything you give comes back, I'm a Jedi on peace,
Great strength after I make a torch out of a cancer stick...
From the hood to the palace,
From pajamas to a robe,
Another zero jumps, I crossed it out,
I'll quit when the courier brings me the sky wrapped up.
Oh baby, the wasteland rises like the dead, baby,
School doesn't teach her like the streets do, baby,
Her face isn't baked by age but by life, baby
Years after the wasteland bites into them, baby,
That kid who yelled "me garda" at the concert on the table,
Supported by 2 cops, smashed with money in the bag,
Vagabond with big balls, Cioceanu Ploiesti,
Blessed alongside legends in Bucharest,
With $atra B. E. N. Z family, it wasn't about Mercedes,
It's not about rich kids, this is Progress!
From the hood to the palace,
From the Carpathians to the Kalash,
From shit to shit,
From stealing to singing,
From the hood to the palace,
The hood gave birth to me!
Oh Lord, mama tells me I'm a lord, dad,
I may be fine but I do ugly things and leave blood on the street,
These guys provoke me, instigate me, irritate me,
And when I catch them on the street Bap! Bap! I waste,
I don't care if I put them straight into resuscitation,
But I feel the tear of a mother on my face,
Many ignorant kids with a loud voice,
Unconscious, they fall into the pit or hospitals,
Poverty makes a beast out of a man,
This system stinks of a bad joke again,
Affiliated with thugs and businessmen, dad,
Blood on my shirt but my face is immaculate