Текст и перевод песни Nikone - Boom Boom Clap

Boom Boom Clap

Hago filigranas a la fuckpolice is easy
Como rupeidi de money no meidi
Suena sin saxo y sexy encierro entre paréntesis tu tesis y bye bye
Vivo por ello no quiero motivo, mundo de agobio,
A tiro de mi odio, wara wara coloquio.

Rápido motivo de débito sigue creciendo su puto apetito crecer como mito, pues nada esta escrito que tengan ojito con todo su chito no busco conflicto ni quiero tu crédito,
Doy la vuelta a la moneda como tu mural ético.

Lloran, sueñan escapar...
A base de reggae-rap
Yo dudo entre ser o estar
Toca subirse a la teja
Señas tag a fat cap
Huele hueles que solo dan pena
Se hizo en plaza Espa
Pero ya nada se respeta

Remueven la cintura con la ayuda de la music
Unos beben Dalsy quieren ser algo más crazy
No hay nada mas sutil que aquella versión de Pary
En la que todos buscan Ridim pasando Pierlli a rally

Boom Boom Clap
Fuck you madafakaa

Saben que no es bueno pero todos nos mata
Dime tu meta, se inventan traviatas
El notas macarra de bacarra pide guerra.

Echo la cuenta en mi cabeza mil grietas
Perfumes de coco no te hacen mas coqueta
Chuparas pote entre escotes que aprietan
No no vale la pena esa muñeca de gena

Po-Ponla de lumiii se fuee homiee
Fuck you lady, baby bibibibi biribi byeee byeee

Boom Boom Clap

I'll make watermarks for the fuck police, easy
As a money maker, I'm not a mediator
It sounds without a sax, and a sexy seclusion in parenthesis your thesis and bye bye
I live for this I don't want a motive, a world of anguish,
Within reach of my hate, wara wara colloquium.

Quick motive for debit, it continues to grow its fucking appetite, to grow as a myth, since nothing is written so that they keep an eye on it with all their chito, I don't seek conflict nor do I want your credit,
I flip the coin like your ethical mural.

They cry, they dream of escaping...
With a base of reggae-rap.
I doubt about being or existing.
It's time to get on the roof.
Fat cap tag signals,
It smells, you smell like you only give pity.
It was made in Plaza Espa
But now nothing is respected.

They move their waists with the help of the music.
Some drink Dalsy, they want to be something more crazy.
There's nothing more subtle than that version by Pary.
In which everyone looks for Riddim passing Pierlli to rally.

Boom Boom Clap
Fuck you motherfucker

They know it's not good but it kills us all.
Tell me your goal, they invent traviatas.
The macarra bacarra notes ask for war.

I do the math in my head a thousand cracks
Coconut perfumes don't make you more coquettish
You'll suck dick between cleavages that squeeze
No, it's not worth it that baby doll gena

Po-Put it on lumiii, it's gone homiee
Fuck you lady, baby bibibibi biribi byeee byeee