Braća iz podruma - Scriptor перевод на английский

Braća iz podruma

U knjigu povijesti repa, tintom isprinto Scriptor
Objesni neka čekaju jer dajem sitno
Otkrio rep ko znanost pa ga zarobio
Ovo je tek formalnost, sada drobim flow
Dobitno koliko i sedmica od 39
Nije Sabath, al sam heavy ko metal kad beat sjebem
"Scriptor!" improvizator za neuke
Moj tim je vojska, a tvoj zaklon za djevojke
Pitajte Ropezza kad na stageu mrak pada
On će reći Vlado veza, kad skladamo nastradaš
Dvije sjene, na polju dobre glazbe sijem sjeme
Uz dobru volju u nju sažmem velik dio sebe
"Oćeš plasirat muziku?" budi kul izdavaču
I razbacuj pare dok pale budale iza plaču
Stvar će se okrenut jer ti pjesme loše zvuče
Pa gradimo svoje dno, da ne padnemo na tuđe

I više nema stare braće iz podruma
Vrijeme leti ko metak izbačen iz oružja
Postavljen na kušnju ko neshvaćeni solo akt
Pjesma hrani dušu ko uzvraćeni poljubac
I više nema stare braće iz podruma
Vrijeme leti ko metak izbačen iz oružja
Postavljen na kušnju ko neshvaćeni solo akt
Pjesma hrani dušu ko uzvraćeni poljubac

A mislili ste da je glazba brojalica
Pa kad ste čuli nas vam je nestala boja s lica
Zaveži pojas sica, nemoj se probat micat
Jer u ovoj vožnji muzike vraćamo doba žica
I klavira, stari ritam je reinkarniran
Al u novom ruhu, instrument piše, a tinta svira
Vratili smo zvuk na svoje staro mjesto
Ak nas ne prihvati puk onda barem znamo gdje smo
Otok u moru nedefiniranih stilova gdje su
Pjesme besmislenije od tinejdžerskih filmova
Stereotipove prodaju gluhim jadnicima
A manje je publike nego glazbenih audicija
Fakin freak showovi ne nose ništa drugo
Osim hrpe wannabeja što žele potpisat ugovor
Laže ko vam kaže da vam glazba nije odurna
Zbog tih sranja više nema MCija iz podruma

I više nema stare braće iz podruma
Vrijeme leti ko metak izbačen iz oružja
Postavljen na kušnju ko neshvaćeni solo akt
Pjesma hrani dušu ko uzvraćeni poljubac
I više nema stare braće iz podruma
Vrijeme leti ko metak izbačen iz oružja
Postavljen na kušnju ko neshvaćeni solo akt
Pjesma hrani dušu ko uzvraćeni poljubac

I dan danas stavljam klasike na policu
Novi Mcji žele prodat kvazi metaforiku
Banana republika, kakva je rep publika
Smješnija od onih okejevih rep rubrika
A braća iz podruma? Danas je druga priča
Pa palim svijeću hrvatskom repu ispred Kulušića
Scena je pala poslije sistema i vrućine
Od danas pa do sutra više nema te gorčine
Pioniri repa konstantno podižu tenziju
Zbog male prodaje, a ne žele otić u penziju
Možda zato jer ne znaju ništa drugo radit
Jer su žrtvovali školu dok su bili mladi
Danas eto ima par demo umjetnika kojima
Će svaka stara stvar ostat uvijek bitna
Zato prestanite vrijeđat našu baštinu molim vas
Pjesma hrani dušu ko uzvraćeni poljubac

Brothers from the Basement

In the history book of rap, Scriptor is printed with ink
Let the envious wait because I'm giving out small change
I discovered rap like science and then captured it
This is just a formality, now I'm crushing the flow
Winning as much as a seven from 39
Not Sabbath, but I'm heavy as metal when I fuck up the beat
"Scriptor!" an improviser for the uninitiated
My team is an army, and yours is a shelter for girls
Ask Ropezz when darkness falls on stage
He'll say Vlado's a connection, when we compose you'll suffer
Two shadows, I sow seeds in the field of good music
With good will, I squeeze a big part of myself into it
"Do you want to market music?" Be cool to the publisher
And throw around money while fools burn and cry behind you
Things will turn around because your songs sound bad
So we're building our own bottom, so we don't fall on someone else's

And there are no more old brothers from the basement
Time flies like a bullet fired from a weapon
Put to the test like a misunderstood solo act
The song feeds the soul like a returned kiss
And there are no more old brothers from the basement
Time flies like a bullet fired from a weapon
Put to the test like a misunderstood solo act
The song feeds the soul like a returned kiss

And you thought music was a counting rhyme
So when you heard us, the color drained from your face
Fasten your seat belt, don't try to move
Because on this musical ride, we're bringing back the age of strings
And pianos, the old rhythm is reincarnated
But in a new dress, the instrument writes, and the ink plays
We brought the sound back to its old place
If the masses don't accept us, then at least we know where we are
An island in the sea of undefined styles where
Songs are more meaningless than teenage movies
They sell stereotypes to deaf fools
And there's less audience than music auditions
Fake freak shows don't carry anything else
Except a bunch of wannabes who want to sign a contract
It's a lie if someone tells you that music isn't disgusting
Because of that shit, there are no more MCs from the basement

And there are no more old brothers from the basement
Time flies like a bullet fired from a weapon
Put to the test like a misunderstood solo act
The song feeds the soul like a returned kiss
And there are no more old brothers from the basement
Time flies like a bullet fired from a weapon
Put to the test like a misunderstood solo act
The song feeds the soul like a returned kiss

To this day, I put the classics on the shelf
New MCs want to sell quasi-metaphorics
Banana republic, what a rap audience
Funnier than those Okaye rep rubrics
And the brothers from the basement? Today is a different story
So I light a candle for Croatian rap in front of Kulušić
The scene fell after the system and the heat
From today until tomorrow, there's no more bitterness
Rap pioneers constantly raise the tension
Because of low sales, and they don't want to retire
Maybe because they don't know how to do anything else
Because they sacrificed school when they were young
Today, there are a few demo artists who
Every old thing will always remain important
So stop insulting our heritage, please
The song feeds the soul like a returned kiss