Calle Outro - Kinto Sol перевод на английский

Calle Outro

En este vecindario, todo se ve y se aprende.
Quien la compra, quien la consume y quien la vende
Se inyecta, se pasa o se prende, lo bueno es hacer morados azules y verdes, lo malo es que te acostumbres
Y estando en el infierno no sientes la lumbre
Esta de peluche mi hermano, estamos al revez
La chota cuida la lacra, la lacra cuida la chota.
Desde la esquina se nota quien anota la cuota
Mientras mas arriba mas rebanadas te toca
Mientras la gente se enfoca en el TRI, la FIFA, traerse la copa
Asi nadie se queja hasta el dia que le toca, Los ojos vendados, cinta canela en la boca.
La mayoria de la gente quiere trabajar honestamente y esto lo aprovecha, compa el delincuente.
Mantas colgadas arriba del puente, textos pal culpable, que lo lea el inocente.
Tristemente el maestro vela al estudiante, borrando el pasado, futuro y tambien el presente.
Retumban las rolas del chente, buchannans pal patron los demas tomen presidente.
PEÑA, loma, barranco esa yerba mala no se arranco. corre tanto la sangre que ya se encharco, donde flota un barco que va rumbo a suiza directo al banco.
Ni el santo ni el blue demond han podido con esta corrupcion, pues ellos mismos compa pagan proteccion.
Chapulin colorado y ahora quien va a salvar la nacion?? si la revolucion no se va a ver en television... lo que no se olvida...

Street Outro

In this neighborhood, we see it all and we learn from it,
Who buys it, who consumes it, and who sells it.
They inject it, pass it around, or light it up, it's cool to be purple, blue, or green, but it's not cool to get used to it.
And when you're in the inferno, you don't feel the fire.
This is crazy, my brother, we're upside down.
The cops are looking out for the scumbags, the scumbags are looking out for the cops.
You can see who's in charge from the corner.
The higher up you are, the more slices you get.
While the people are focused on the national soccer team, FIFA, bringing home the cup.
That way no one complains until it's their turn, blindfolded, duct tape over their mouth.
Most people want to work honestly, and the criminals take advantage of that, my friend.
Banners hung from bridges, messages for the guilty, to be read by the innocent.
Sadly, the teacher watches over the student, erasing the past, the future, and the present.
Vicente Fernández's songs blare, Buchanan's for the boss, let the others drink Presidente.
PEÑA, hills, ravines. They haven't pulled out those weeds. The blood flows so much it's formed a puddle, where a boat floats, heading straight to a Swiss bank.
Neither the saint nor the blue demon could handle this corruption, because they themselves, my friend, pay for protection.
Chapulin Colorado, who's going to save the nation now? If we're not going to see a revolution on TV... what we won't forget...