Текст и перевод песни Shotta - El Fuertecito

El Fuertecito

El es el fuertecito, camiseta estrecha,
Polito de pico, tiene muchas tetas
La talla de su ropa la misma que su parienta,
Te pinchaste mucha mierda,¿QUIEN MANDA EN LA DISCOTECA?
Pendientes de Beckham, peinado de Cristiano
Le gustan las pollas, los coños, las bocas y los anos
Pinchazo degustó, es un don ya
El fuertecito tiene un micropene y sólo se empalma en Navidad.
Nunca come pizza, no sabe que es un McDonalds
Siempre en el gimnasio, no sabe qué es la droga, quiere ser un Conan, el más hombre de la zona,
La lectura de este notas son los ingredientes de la compra
Nada con grasas saturadas, su vida es proteína,
Su novia es un florero, la mas prima de Sevilla
Se ve que no se quieren, esa relación basada en el físico es un suicidio
Eso no es amor, el fuertecito

Os voy a contar su historia, el físico es su meta
No se junta con gente gorda
Le sueñan salir en hombres mujeres y vicemierda
El fuertecito, mira cómo va
Sacando pecho y chuleando en la ciudad
Su cerebro convertido en un mojón
El culto al cuerpo, su religión

Segunda parte, estaba todo el día comiendo pan integral y mirándose en los espejos de la zona
Comete un kebab y cállate ya hermano que te pique un poco el culo

Fiestas en Ibiza en un barco, ya tu sabes
Sintiéndose mal por cada cubata que consume
Vale, la historia cambia, yo y mi banda
Bebiéndome cervezas 'por tanda, comiéndome fritanga
Sin pensar en mi físico y en el futuro
Hay un abismo entre deporte y metrosexismo
Ellos quieren ver morir un toro en la plaza
Y yo cago los domingos shusi, eso es maestranza
Maleantes y tunantes aspirantes a Stallone y Schwarzenegger
Más no esperes, cerebro muere
Se pincho un ciclón y esta to subio
Termine y Torbe versión español, muchos cambios de humor
Hormonas de caballo, sesión de rayos uva
Un día le cae un rayo, se peina con frescura
Eyacula mancuernas y queratina en sus mejores dias tiene el culo como una sandia
El fuertecito, menos personalidad que un palo, suple
Su falta de autoestima musculando, super
Convenció de la imagen que ofrece pa vacilar
Que se coma esta critica en forma de canción de rap
Se trata de metabolismo, cuando dejan el gym, vuelven a ser el mismo
Culpa a la prensa rosa, a la imagen y a las revistas
Que los niños ya no quieren ser bomberos, quieren ser tronistas .

The Strong Guy

He's the strong guy, tight T-shirt,
Pointed beak, he has many boobs (ironic)
His clothes size is the same as his wife's,
You injected a lot of crap, WHO RULES THE CLUB?
Beckham earrings, Cristiano hairstyle,
He likes dicks, pussies, mouths, and assholes
He tasted the needle, it's a gift now
The strong guy has a micropenis and only gets hard at Christmas.
He never eats pizza, doesn't know what a McDonalds is
Always at the gym, doesn't know what drugs are, he wants to be a Conan, the manliest in the area,
Reading these notes are the ingredients of his shopping list
Nothing with saturated fats, his life is protein,
His girlfriend is a vase, the dumbest girl in Seville
It's clear they don't love each other, that relationship based on physique is suicide
That's not love, the strong guy

I'm gonna tell you his story, physique is his goal
He doesn't hang out with fat people
He dreams of appearing in Men's Health, Women's Health, and Vice magazine
The strong guy, look how he goes
Sticking his chest out and swaggering around the city
His brain turned into a turd
The cult of the body, his religion

Second part, he was eating whole wheat bread all day and looking at himself in the mirrors of the area
Eat a kebab and shut up already bro, let your ass itch a little

Parties in Ibiza on a boat, you know
Feeling bad about every drink he consumes
Okay, the story changes, me and my gang
Drinking beers in rounds, eating fried food
Without thinking about my physique and the future
There's a chasm between sport and metrosexuality
They want to see a bull die in the plaza
And I shit sushi on Sundays, that's artistry
Thugs and rogues aspiring to be Stallone and Schwarzenegger
Don't expect more, brain dies
He injected a cyclone and is all jacked up
He ended up a Spanish version of Torbe, lots of mood swings
Horse hormones, tanning sessions
One day lightning strikes him, he combs his hair with coolness
He ejaculates dumbbells and keratin, on his best days his ass is like a watermelon
The strong guy, less personality than a stick, he compensates
His lack of self-esteem by building muscle, super
He convinced himself of the image he offers to show off
Let him eat this criticism in the form of a rap song
It's all about metabolism, when they leave the gym, they go back to being the same
He blames the gossip press, the image, and the magazines
That kids no longer want to be firefighters, they want to be reality show stars.