Текст и перевод песни Tote King feat. Andreas Lutz - Ya No Me Enfado

Ya No Me Enfado

I don't give a fuck, I don't give a fuck...

Si hay un par de " 23's" puestas en mis pies ya no me afectan malos humos
Ni si el mundo estalla ya no me importáis ni uno
Tampoco que una cola dé dos vueltas al Corte Inglés
Pa que la Esteban firme libros dentro cuando no ha leído ninguno
Ya no me enfado... aunque Paquirrín no es Dj Shadow
Qué lejos habéis llevao la broma hermano!
Qué divertido es descubrir pa to los que votamos
Que vuestro presidente habla el inglés de Sergio Ramos
Qué campechano Don Francisco en su túnica
Cerdos del hemiciclo abucheando a lo Hooligan
Ya no me importan, le pillé gustillo al trauma
Esa extraña sensación de estar quemao, y seguir a lo Niki Lauda
Con esta fauna, me resigno a diario
Videos Snuff que antes pagaban millonarios
Y hoy los rula por Whatsapp cualquier compi del barrio y te da el día
Ahora no los descargo, ya no pierdo energía
Ni tan siquiera cuando Manu Sánchez
Salta de rociero a progre modernito tía

Ya no quemo brujas...
Ni cuando veo a niños de 5 años en Canal Sur, resabiaos como marujas

Stay away from me!!
I don't give a fuck about nothing!!
Nobody cares... So I don't give a fuck I don't give a fuck!!!
Me sua la putapolla to!!!

Ya no me enfado con la tele y sus programas ¿vale?
Si salen a la calle a ridiculizar chavales
Con preguntas lerdas rollo...¿Quién fue Adolfo Suarez?
Y los cerdos del programa... tampoco lo saben
Ya no me queman redes sociales, su efecto
Ni padres subiendo al niño al Youtube como si fuesen expos
Quieren convencernos, ponerle vallas a su feudo
Con su canción del millón de Euros
Y ante el tifónde emociones distorsionás
Prefiero al reggeaton que no me engaña si habla de follar en textos
Ni la derecha me da el rato
Que no hacen na por ti y lo dan to por los no-natos
Perfecto, allá el ser humano y sus retrasos

Si ha confundido la verdad con el aplauso
Ya no me enfado, ni con su pseudopoesía
Que ha conquistao tu corazón analfabeto tía
Paso, de jóvenes en compañía
Con mucha raya blanca pa tanta charla vacía
De ese timo de las quejas del artista
De la puerta de su limo al diván del psicoanalista

Stay away from me!!
I don't give a fuck about nothing!!
Nobody cares... So I don't give a fuck I don't give a fuck!!!
Me sua la putapolla to!!!

I Don't Get Mad Anymore

I don't give a fuck, I don't give a fuck...

If I have a couple of " 23's" on my feet, I'm not affected by bad vibes anymore
Even if the world explodes, I don't care about any of you
Nor if a queue goes around the Corte Inglés twice
For the Esteban to sign books inside when she hasn't read any
I don't get mad anymore... even though Paquirrín isn't Dj Shadow
How far you've taken the joke, brother!
How funny it is to discover for all of us who voted
That your president speaks Sergio Ramos' English
What a down-to-earth Don Francisco in his robe
Pigs of the hemicycle booing like Hooligans
I don't care anymore, I've got a taste for trauma
That strange feeling of being burnt out, and continuing like Niki Lauda
With this fauna, I resign myself daily
Snuff videos that millionaires used to pay for
And today any neighborhood buddy scrolls them on Whatsapp and gives you the day
Now I don't download them, I don't waste energy anymore
Not even when Manu Sánchez
Jumps from flamenco to progressive hipster girl

I don't burn witches anymore...
Nor when I see 5-year-old children on Canal Sur, as sour as gossipy women

Stay away from me!!
I don't give a fuck about nothing!!
Nobody cares... So I don't give a fuck I don't give a fuck!!!
I don't give a damn about anything!!!

I don't get mad at TV and its programs anymore, okay?
If they go out on the street to ridicule kids
With stupid questions like...Who was Adolfo Suarez?
And the pigs on the show... don't know either
I don't get burned by social media anymore, its effect
Nor parents uploading their children to Youtube as if they were exhibits
They want to convince us, put up fences in their fiefdom
With their million-euro song
And in the face of the typhoon of emotions you distort
I prefer reggeaton which doesn't deceive me if it talks about fucking in texts
Not even the right gives me the time
They don't do anything for you and give everything to the unborn
Perfect, there the human being and its delays

If he has confused truth with applause
I don't get mad anymore, not even with their pseudo-poetry
That has conquered your illiterate heart, honey
I'm passing, of young people in company
With a lot of white line for so much empty talk
Of that scam of the artist's complaints
From the door of his limo to the psychoanalyst's couch

Stay away from me!!
I don't give a fuck about nothing!!
Nobody cares... So I don't give a fuck I don't give a fuck!!!
I don't give a damn about anything!!!