Текст и перевод песни RL feat. Vanessa - Somos de Calle Remix

Somos de Calle Remix

Yo si soy de la calle,
Lo que no soy es gangster ni matón, (Welcome to the remix!)
No te confundas,
Tampoco alicate ni mamón,
Yo soy cantante, (History baby!)
Te lo demuestro en mi canción,
A nadie envidio,
Por eso Dios me da la bendición,
Tengo dinero,
Huelemelo,
Sin necesidad de tirarle,
A ningún cabrón
Yo soy Arcangel, (Prrra!)
Mago en esta pendejá,
Los desaparezco sin esforzarme ná,
Asi que estate quieto,
Que si te pillo por mi callejon te van a mandar un rafagazo,
Estate quieto, (PR!)
Arcangel la maravilla protagonista de tu fracaso

Tú sabes que somos de calle, (Daddy!)
Hay cría y corazón, (Making history!)
Siente el fuego, (Haciendo historia!)
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo (Usted quiere mas presion, ja!)
(You know my time is it, you know my time is it Daddy!)

Porque somos de calle,
Hay cria y corazon, (Se unieron las fuerzas!)
Siente el fuego, (De La Ghezzy!)
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo

No soy sicario pero jalo cuando es necesario,
No quiero ser temerario solo un talento de barrio,
No te equivoques, también tengo pistolas en mi inventario,
Y en el periodico en la seccion de obituarios,
De tu corillo contarás a varios,
A los cobardes que en vez de cojones parecen tener ovarios,
De niño, viví la calle a diario,
Cambie la glock por el micrófono,
Ahora mato en escenario
Crías, desarrolle y no fue culpa mia,
En Villa España y La Perla joceando to los dias,
Mataron a mi socio Siquitria,
Sabe que!?
Que esa muerte pudo haber sido la mia

Aquel que rompe las reglas, la regla es rompele la cara,
Lechones que roban, picale la mano afuerza de balas,
Para verle la cara soltando lagrimas de embuste,
Usted necesita insecticida,
Mosquitos que cargan el dengue y pervete boconeo,
EL respeto no se recupera a la hora del fogoneo,
Mi calle es calle y mi ciudad ES PEOR,
Yo vengo de Ponce,
Mi calle es de nativa, arriba boricua ronque

Soy de la calle,
Hell yeah, I'm from the block,
Where niggas got big guns the pack And get Ur ass drop,
Donde se aprende a jocear y a hacer dinero,
Tambien donde se aprende que el listo vive del mas sincero,
Yeah, we are in the top of the cops,
No importa si me quieren dar tiempo en la federal,
Ah, ah, yeah,
Total soy un talento de barrio,
Y en bloque me mantengo a diario, nigga!

Tu sabes que somos de calle, (Daddy! PR!)
Hay cria y corazon, (Nosotros somos los que comandamos La brea)
Siente el fuego,
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo (Los favoritos del PUEBLO!!)

Porque somos de calle,
Hay cría y corazon,
Siente el fuego, (Julio Voltio!)
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo (Hey yo Voltaje)

Por eso tu vas antes,
Que yo soy mudo, ciego y sordo,
Y ando calladito aunque halla un motin aborto,
En mi carro en los regueros se tapan con un toldo,
Muchos se escrachan guillaos de peces gordos,
Los barrios, los caserios, tos son iguales, (Claro!)
Siempre hay un chota, mil anormales,
El punto, los rifles, enemigos, los federales,
Cuando hay problemas, uhmm, nadie sale

Por dinero las mujeres dan culo,
El bichote, el gangster, el chulo,
El mundo es tuyo,
La pendejá es que todo el mundo piensa como tu y yo,
To el mundo quiere buscarse lo suyo,
Hay es que empiezan los murmullos,
Peliando por flejes, por chabos, por droga,
Y dicen que es por el orgullo,
Te clavan la jeva,
Te matan de espalda, (Come on!)
Esto es una selva, (Chyno Ny!)
Aqui nadie te salva (Yo!)

Muchos aspiran llevar este tipo de vida,
Aquí las opciones no varían y la pobreza me obliga,
No toleramos Listeria,
Si Eres chota en la boca si eres comelón en la barriga,
Muchos dicen que son líneas pero se viran,
Dicen ser calle y todavía no han visto la avenida,
Calma la mandíbula parlanchín,
Usted no tiene corazón ni en el día de San Valentín

Tu sabes que somos de calle,
Hay cria y corazon,
Siente el fuego,
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo

Porque somos de calle, (Okey, tu quieres mas tension entonces!?)
Hay cria y corazon, (Hey yo Coscu! Come on man!)
Siente el fuego, (I Got Ur Back Man)
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo(LET THEM KNOW)

Ya yo estoy harto de escuchar los cuentos de bichotes, fekas,
De cuando bajaban kilos y aparatos de manteca en la maleta,
Un micrófono de cables adentro del huddy,
Y el tipo tiro al medio hasta los tecatos en el Churil,
Loco, la gente creen que dan corriente y tienen cria,
Se juntan quince pa asaltar una panaderia,
Tecleo bateria y andan sin los tintes en el Kia,
Por insecterias de esas los dejan tiraos de dia
En el barrio todos saben como el humo se bate,
Hay muchos bajo tierra por hacer disparates,
Te pones pa tu numero o te parten el remo,
Esto es PR, tu sabes como lo hacemos (La Plus 40!)

Estoy que me arde la boca poniendo nombre en tu record,
Y hasta te he visto saliendo pal colmado con chaleco,
Se que tiembla, cuando en el barrio suenan los lobos,
Le diste a doce pero a cuantos miraste a los ojos?
Oyeme esta gente si son trili y me dan risa,
Buscan vida con collares pero seran ceniza,
O se alinean o seran fantasmas con la brisa,
Temperatura, si Yankee los arropa como trizas

Tu sabes que somos de calle, (Daddy Yankee no es un CANTANTE)
Hay cria y corazon, (Daddy Yankee es EL movimiento!)
Siente el fuego,
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo (Damas y Caballeros!)

Porque somos de calle, (Se le agradece el apoyo al jefe)
Hay cria y corazon, (Cerrando con broche de oro!)
Siente el fuego,
Las reglas del juego las pongo yo (Rompiendo las reglas!)

Hey chamako si las pistolas no tan aprietan,
Se comen vivo a cualquiera que se le trepen las chuletas,
Gangstersito!
Sembraste el miedo con tu locura,
Pero no te respetan papi, como al jodedor de altura,
Gangstersito!
Pasaste el limite,
Un sapo no puede mear en tierra de principes,
En la guerra fuiste participe,
Le metiste mucho voltaje al dedo indice
Ahora por tu cabeza hay una subasta,
Estan ofreciendo cash, kilos y libretas de Baby Rasta,
Caliente pal pecho como el ron de Ñejo,
O mueres como un valiente o vives como un pendejo,
Asi como esta la cosa cualquier hijo de vecino
Te almuerza bien facil como peeper con arroz chino,
Te vuelan las cejas, se viven la movie del Guelo,
Con Arcangel te salve del fuego De La Ghetto

Prrra!
Daddy!
Dice!
Increible!
Nosotros dictamos,
Las reglas callejeras,
Desde los 80, hasta el infinito,
Puerto Rico,
Los creadores del movimiento urbano
Talento de Barrio!
Once again!
El Jefe!

We are from Calle Remix

I am from the street,
What I'm not is a gangster or a bully, (Welcome to the remix!)
Don't get confused,
Neither pliers nor mammon,
I'm a singer, (History baby!)
I prove it to you in my song,
I envy no one,
That's why God gives me the blessing,
I have money,
Smell it to me,
No need to throw him,
No motherfucker
I am Archangel, (Prrra!)
Magician in this asshole,
I disappear them without making an effort na,
So be still,
That if I catch you up my alley they'll send you a bang,
Be still, (PR!)
Archangel the wonder protagonist of your failure

You know we're from the street, (Daddy!)
There is breeding and heart, (Making history!)
Feel the fire, (Making history!)
The rules of the game are set by me (You want more pressure, ha!)
(You know my time is it, you know my time is it Daddy!)

Because we are from the street,
There is cria and corazon, (The forces joined!)
Feel the fire, (From The Ghezzy!)
The rules of the game are set by me

I'm not a hitman but I pull when necessary,
I don't want to be reckless just a neighborhood talent,
Make no mistake, I also have pistols in my inventory,
And in the newspaper in the obituary section,
Of your corillo you will tell several,
To the cowards who instead of balls seem to have ovaries,
As a child, I lived the street daily,
Swap the glock for the microphone,
Now I kill on stage
Hatchlings, develop and it wasn't my fault,
In Villa España and La Perla joceando to los dias,
They killed my partner Siquitria,
You know what!?
That death could have been mine

He who breaks the rules, the rule is to break his face,
Piglets who steal, sting his hand with the force of bullets,
To see his face letting out lying tears,
You need insecticide,
Mosquitoes that carry dengue and get mouthy,
Respect is not recovered at the time of firing,
My street is a street and my city is worse,
I came from Ponce,
My street is from nativa, arriba boricua ronque

I'm from the street,
Hell yeah, I'm from the block,
Where niggas got big guns the pack And get Ur ass drop,
Where you learn to joke and make money,
Also where you learn that the smart one lives from the most sincere,
Yeah, we are in the top of the cops,
It doesn't matter if they want to give me time at the federal,
Ah, ah, yeah,
Total I'm a neighborhood talent,
And in block I keep daily, nigga!

You know we're from the street, (Daddy! PR!)
There is cria and corazon, (We are the ones who command La brea)
Feel the fire,
The rules of the game are set by me (The PEOPLE's favorites!!)

Because we are from the street,
There is breeding and heart,
Feel the fire, (Julio Voltio!)
The rules of the game are set by me (Hey yo Voltage)

That's why you go before,
That I am mute, blind and deaf,
And I'm quiet even if I find a botin abortion,
In my car in the streams are covered with an awning,
A lot of people are hiding from big shots.,
The neighborhoods, the villages, tos are the same, (Of course!)
There is always a chota, a thousand abnormal,
The point, the rifles, enemies, the feds,
When there's trouble, uhmm, no one comes out

For money women give ass,
The bichote, the gangster, the pimp,
The world is yours,
The problem is that everyone thinks like you and me.,
The world wants to find its own,
There is is that the murmurs begin,
Fighting for strapping, for chabos, for drugs,
And they say it's because of pride,
They stick the jeva to you,
They kill you on your back, (Come on!)
This is a jungle, (Chyno Ny!)
No one can save you here (me!)

Many aspire to lead this kind of life,
Here the options do not vary and poverty forces me,
We do not tolerate Listeria,
If you're a pussy in the mouth if you're a belly eater,
Many say they are lines but they turn,
They claim to be street and have not yet seen the avenue,
Calm the chatty jaw,
You have no heart even on Valentine's Day

You know we're from the street,
There is a child and a heart,
Feel the fire,
The rules of the game are set by me

Because we're from the street, (OK, you want more tension then!?)
There are cria and corazon, (Hey yo Coscu! Come on man!)
Feel the Fire, (I Got Ur Back Man)
The rules of the game are set by me (LET them KNOW)

I'm already tired of listening to the tales of bichotes, fekas,
From when they dropped pounds and butter appliances in the suitcase,
A wired microphone inside the huddy,
And the guy shot in the middle to the tecatos in the Churil,
Crazy, people think they give current and have cria,
Fifteen people come together to raid a bakery,
I type battery and they walk without the dyes in the Kia,
Because of these insecticides, they let them lie down during the day
In the neighborhood everyone knows how the smoke beats,
There are many underground for making nonsense,
You put on your number or they'll break your oar,
This is PR, you know how we do it (The Plus 40!)

I'm burning up my mouth putting a name on your record,
And I've even seen you coming out... palmed in a vest,
I know she trembles, when the wolves sound in the neighborhood,
You hit twelve but how many did you look in the eyes?
Listen to me these people if they are trili and they make me laugh,
They look for life with necklaces but they will be ashes,
Either they line up or they'll be ghosts in the breeze,
Temperature, if Yankee wraps them up like shreds

You know we're from the street, (Daddy Yankee is not a SINGER)
There is cria and corazon, (Daddy Yankee is THE movement!)
Feel the fire,
The rules of the game are set by me (Ladies and Gentlemen!)

Because we are from the street, (The boss is thanked for the support)
There is cria and corazon, (Closing with a flourish!)
Feel the fire,
The rules of the game are set by me (Breaking the rules!)

Hey chamako if the guns are not so tight,
They'll eat alive anyone who gets his chops up,
Gangstersito!
You spread fear with your madness,
But they don't respect you daddy, like the tall fuck,
Gangstersito!
You passed the limit,
A toad can't piss in the land of princes,
You were involved in the war,
You put a lot of voltage on the index finger...
Now for your head there's an auction,
They are offering cash, kilos and Baby Rasta notebooks,
Hot pal breast like rum Ñejo,
Either you die like a brave or you live like an asshole,
As is the case with any neighbor's child.
It makes your lunch easy as peeper with Chinese rice,
They blow your eyebrows, they live the movie of the Guelo,
With Archangel I saved you from the Ghetto fire

Prrra!
Daddy!
He says!
Amazing!
We dictate,
The street rules,
From the 80s, to infinity,
Puerto Rico,
The creators of the urban movement
Neighborhood talent!
Once again!
The Boss!