Текст и перевод песни Rapsusklei Feat. Karty er Nene feat. Rapsusklei & Karty er Nene - Player Hater

Player Hater

Cuido los rumores, se lo que el niño cuenta
Hablan mierda, nuestro culo en venta
¿Dónde estaba él cuando empezé en los noventa?
En la tripa de su maami, rodeado de placenta
Yo no flojeo, mi nivel aumenta
Todo lo que hago 100×100 me representa
Pero lo que hace el tonto es que me rebienta
Porque la mitad de lo que cuenta se lo inventa
Como no sabe hacer nada bién que se dedica a destruir
Y cuando fuimos a por él solo supo huir
Ya ves tu, que valiente, boquita de fusil
No se porque me doy más si lo tenia que induir.

Mide por cada talento, más de cien envidias
Y si estas arriba aun es más facil que te pillen tirria
Pero lo nuestro es escultura y lo que hacen ellos una birria
Por eso chilla, chilla, chilla pero mi nombre no mancilla.

Y cuando vengais por mi zona, ya veremos
Si esque teneis huevos o seguis siendo unos memos
Hablan por la espalda y se ocultan bajo falda
Para ellos guardo balas, balas, y larga espada.

No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizas mis fallos les hagan feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz
No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizás es que a ellos les haga feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz

Muchos que hablan envidia celosamente
Critican sin saber de la vida de cualquier ente
Es tan evidente e irreal que ya me canso
Mirate a ti pa saber a quien coño le llamas falso
Tanto pussy, creen tener ussy
Musica no es fussy
Pa fusilar, tu si
Mi piel es jacuzzi
Mas tu estas sin hacer aun como el sushi
Tu estilo es cursi, sucio excuse
Odiadores saben a que me refiero
Si apenas nacistes y pavos ya ponian mi rap
Ya no creo en.los que me dicen te quiero
Y dejaran de escucharme seguro si me corto el pelo
Yo rapeo y mi rapeo es verdadero
Con gorra plana, gorra doblada o con un sombrero
En realidad lo que les duele es el ego
Para ti soy Rapsus, para mi un don nadie apodado Don Diego
Llego y pliego al falso, al manso, al ganso
Al niño que hoy ande descalzo
Entre cristales y fuegos al rojo vivo
Solo escribo lo que siento y siento mas de lo que escribo

No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizás es que a ellos les haga feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz
No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizás es que a ellos les haga feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz

Son una panda de mantas
Les gusta el canta, canta
Tanta poca masa quereis que parece una planta

Si es verdad, yo ya e visto a ese cobarde
Que critica entre la gente y venderia hasta su madre

De todas formas, si esto te parece tan facil
Puedes cojer micro, papel y lapiz

Cada vez que lo pienso critica el que menos atencion merece
Parece que el pobre carece de algo y lo paga con alguien ajeno y con eso se crece

Con buyas rotos, largas caras, mala baba,
Cancion dedicada, una firma tachada
La punta de mi aba se hincha y estalla

Pasate de la raya, eso no es tener agayas
Mejor coges tus medallas, tus lacayas y te callas

Seguramente diran que he cambiado
Y criticaran porque no hago lo mismo que hace diez años
Me cago en su puta madre quieren que no evolucionen
Que escriba mi vida en el muro de las lamentaciones

Es mi tiempo, mi esfuerzo, se bien como me siento
Y al que no me quiera que se crea todos sus cuentos

Se de donde vengo y a hacia donde me dirigo
Tu puedes odiarme ahora, yo te enseñé que era el hiphop

No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizás es que a ellos les haga feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz
No se porque hablan tanta mierda de mi
Quizás es que a ellos les haga feliz
Hay que arrancar el problema de raiz
Porque mi musica abre la cicatriz

Player Hater

I take care of the rumours, I know what the kid tells
They talk shit, our ass for sale
Where was he when I started in the nineties?
In his mommy's belly, surrounded by placenta
I don't flex, my level increases
Everything I do represents me 100×100
But what the fool does is that it pisses me off
Because half of what he says, he makes up
Since he doesn't know how to do anything well, he dedicates himself to destroying
And when we went for him, he only knew how to run away
There you see, how brave, rifle mouth
I don't know why I give myself more if I had to induce it.

Measure for each talent, more than a hundred envies
And if you're on top it's even easier to get caught in anger
But ours is sculpture and what they do is a mess
That's why scream, scream, scream but my name doesn't stain.

And when you come to my area, we'll see
If you have balls or you're still some memos
They talk behind my back and hide under my skirt
For them I keep bullets, bullets, and long sword.

I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe my mistakes make them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar
I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe it makes them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar

Many who speak envy jealously
They criticize without knowing the life of any being
It is so evident and unreal that I am tired
Look at yourself to know who the hell you call fake
So much pussy, think they have ussy
Music is not fussy
To shoot, you do
My skin is jacuzzi
But you are still doing nothing like sushi
Your style is cheesy, dirty excuse
Haters know what I mean
If you were just born and turkeys were already putting my rap
I no longer believe in those who tell me I love you
And they will surely stop listening to me if I cut my hair
I rap and my rap is real
With a flat cap, a folded cap or a hat
Actually what hurts them is the ego
For you I am Rapsus, for me a nobody nicknamed Don Diego
I arrive and fold to the false, to the meek, to the goose
To the child who walks barefoot today
Between crystals and red-hot fires
I only write what I feel and feel more than I write

I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe it makes them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar
I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe it makes them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar

They are a bunch of blankets
They like the sing, sing
So little mass you want that it looks like a plant

If it's true, I've already seen that coward
Who criticizes among people and would sell even his mother

Anyway, if this seems so easy to you
You can take mic, paper and pencil

Every time I think about it, the one who deserves the least attention criticizes
It seems that the poor guy lacks something and pays for it with someone else's and grows with that

With broken buyas, long faces, bad baba,
Dedicated song, a crossed out signature
The tip of my aba swells and bursts

Get over it, that's not having charms
You better take your medals, your lackeys and shut up

They will surely say that I have changed
And they will criticize because I don't do the same thing I did ten years ago
I shit on their fucking mother they want me not to evolve
To write my life on the wailing wall

It's my time, my effort, I know how I feel
And whoever doesn't love me let them believe all their stories

I know where I come from and where I'm going
You can hate me now, I taught you what hiphop was

I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe it makes them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar
I don't know why they talk so much shit about me
Maybe it makes them happy
You have to tear the problem out from the root
Because my music opens the scar