Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Oro, artist - C-Kan.
Date of issue: 31.10.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: Spanish
Oro(original) |
Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas |
Como si yo fuera de oro |
Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas |
Todo lo compro con mis coros |
Y ahora envidiame, porque yo gané, ándale |
Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale |
Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro |
Cabron, yo me siento de oro |
Mi enemigo es el amor, pero mi amigo es el dinero |
Mira cómo me sacó de líos |
Mi enemigo es el amor, pero mi amigo es el dinero |
Y ahora todos quieren ser amigos del amigo mío |
Yo nací entre problemas, yo crecí entre problemas |
Wey, yo soy un problema, y ahora tú tienes un problema |
Porque igual que con los premios me pasó, ¿qué pasó? |
Tu chica me nominó, y adivinen quién ganó |
A los 17, con la barriga vacía y las tenis rotas |
Ya son más de 20, amigos que se murieron, no pagán' la cuota |
Ya pasé los 30, kilos por la frontera de perico y de mota |
Pero dice la chota, que todavía se me notan |
Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas |
Como si yo fuera de oro |
Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas |
Todo lo compro con mis coros |
Y ahora envidiame porque yo gané, ándale |
Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale |
Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro |
Cabron, yo me siento de oro (Ah) |
Tú no perteneces aquí, por el barrio donde crecí |
Crímenes que causan mis G’s, la poli' no puede salir |
Libertad y desastre en mi cara, inhalando en Guadalajara |
Si hablas mucho llueven las balas, sé que tu mercancía es mala |
La Zorra quiere ver mas, vamos a dar, muchos se lo comen |
Si ellos me quieren tirar, los espero acá, manga 'e maricones |
No tienen mi puto peso y menos las barras de mis renglones |
La delincuencia está ardiendo, todos lo saben, nadie interpone, wow |
Lo mío es punto y aparte |
Siempre voy con mis maleantes, ey |
Sonido pa' traficantes |
Cabron, yo me siento de o-ro |
Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas |
(Yeah, yeah, dame un montón de la rica) |
Como si yo fuera de oro |
Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas |
(Rica, rica) |
Todo lo compro con mis coros |
Mi tía Mariela me escondía el bicarbonato (Tia) |
Para que yo no cocinara lo que había en el plato (Yeah) |
Ahora ya me alejé de eso, hice con Dios un pacto (Sí) |
Las discográficas se me arrodillan por un trato |
Yo camino por cualquier la’o, confioso y prepara’o |
En cualquier barrio me respetan como un santo (El Mero mero) |
Raperos que hablan de nivel, no es para tanto |
Si comparan a este hijo de puta nacido en el campo |
¿Quieres que te respete? |
Deme respeto, mijo |
Antes que me aproveche y se lo demuestre con otro disco |
Mi lema siempre ha sido ser un jugador distinto (Yes) |
Soy Maradona en el Azteca y la mano de Cristo |
Bardero$ clicka con C-Kan, te dejan algo escrito |
Sonando cutro al Buenos Airesz, Monterrey distrito |
Un amante de los problemas, siempre me complico |
Y si me vuelvo rico me vuelvo a mi pueblo chico |
¡Te lo juro, Cristo! |
Colgadas del cuello un par de nenas como si fueran cadenas |
Como si yo fuera de oro |
Rolex, mansiones, Mercedes, prendas y las envidias ajenas |
Todo lo compro con mis coros |
Y ahora envidiame porque yo gané, ándale |
Ahora tirame, di qué vas a hacer, chíngale |
Que ando con sicarios, ex-convictos, criminales en mi coro |
Cabron, yo me siento de oro (Ah) |
(translation) |
Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains |
As if I were gold |
Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others |
I buy everything with my choirs |
And now envy me, because I won, come on |
Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him |
That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir |
Bastard, I feel like gold |
My enemy is love, but my friend is money |
Look how he got me out of trouble |
My enemy is love, but my friend is money |
And now everyone wants to be friends with my friend |
I was born in trouble, I grew up in trouble |
Wey, I'm a problem, and now you have a problem |
Because just like with the awards it happened to me, what happened? |
Your girl nominated me, and guess who won |
At 17, with an empty belly and broken sneakers |
There are already more than 20, friends who died, they don't pay the fee |
I already passed the 30, kilos by the border of perico and speck |
But says the chota, that they still show me |
Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains |
As if I were gold |
Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others |
I buy everything with my choirs |
And now envy me because I won, come on |
Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him |
That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir |
Bastard, I feel like gold (Ah) |
You don't belong here, because of the neighborhood where I grew up |
Crimes cause my G's, the cops can't get out |
Freedom and disaster in my face, inhaling in Guadalajara |
If you talk too much it rains bullets, I know your merchandise is bad |
The Fox wants to see more, let's give, many eat it |
If they want to throw me out, I'll wait for them here, manga 'and fagots |
They don't have my fucking weight and less the bars of my lines |
Crime is burning, everybody knows it, nobody gets in the way, wow |
Mine is full stop |
I always go with my thugs, hey |
Sound for traffickers |
Bastard, I feel o-ro |
Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains |
(Yeah, yeah, give me a lot of the rich) |
As if I were gold |
Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others |
(Rich, rich) |
I buy everything with my choirs |
My aunt Mariela hid the bicarbonate from me (Tia) |
So that I wouldn't cook what was on the plate (Yeah) |
Now I've moved away from that, I made a pact with God (Yes) |
Record labels kneel on me for a deal |
I walk by any side, confident and prepared |
In any neighborhood they respect me like a saint (El Mero mere) |
Rappers who talk about level, it's not that bad |
If you compare this son of a bitch born in the country |
Do you want me to respect you? |
Give me respect, mijo |
Before I take advantage and show it to you with another album |
My motto has always been to be a different player (Yes) |
I'm Maradona in the Azteca and the hand of Christ |
Bardero$ clicka with C-Kan, they leave you something written |
Sounding cutro al Buenos Airesz, Monterrey district |
A lover of problems, I always get complicated |
And if I get rich I go back to my small town |
I swear to you, Christ! |
Hanging from the neck a couple of girls as if they were chains |
As if I were gold |
Rolex, mansions, Mercedes, garments and the envy of others |
I buy everything with my choirs |
And now envy me because I won, come on |
Now throw me, say what are you going to do, fuck him |
That I hang out with hitmen, ex-convicts, criminals in my choir |
Bastard, I feel like gold (Ah) |