Текст и перевод песни Thirstin Howl the 3rd feat. Daddy Yankee & Sofla - Somos De Calle (feat. Daddy Yankee & Sofla)

Somos De Calle (feat. Daddy Yankee & Sofla)

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!

Somos De Calle (feat. Daddy Yankee & Sofla)

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!)
Nobody saves 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!