Translation of the song lyrics Oro - C-Kan, Bardero$

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)