Lyrics of 96ERS - HOKE

96ERS - HOKE
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 96ERS, artist - HOKE
Date of issue: 29.09.2020
Song language: Spanish

96ERS

(original)
Yo, Brian Bo, solito por la ciudad
Porrito de hash, polito de Ralph
Los tengo otra vez detrás, watching my back
Esos cerdos tienen sus ojos en mí, como Pac
No llega al mes pero es for real
True shit, na' de corte
Hoodie XL, Tela tactel
Conseguir la crema, ése es el deporte
Ice de Los Ángeles y whiskhy del norte
Luces y cruces, como en el closet
Hablado morse, sacando las barras de los bloques
Tú encuentra dónde y ponte
Veo la vida en callejones like nombres debajo de nombres
A mí mi jefe ni me saluda a esa altura y no sé lo que se
Factura en jefatura, pero me la suda.
(Eyo)
No tengas dudas: si baja a la calle se la dejan pura
Si sube al despacho no es como esas putas
De la huerta hasta el puerto, de Patraix hasta el Cedro
De las pistas al centro, de Torrefi hasta el pueblo.(Yes yo)
Maratones en metro
Callejones y tornos, esperando el momento
Por si vienen los cops miran de derecha a izquierda
Parece el Roland Garros, tos' vestidos de Lacoste (Low cost)
Siguen escuchando, no rezando a Dios
(translation)
Me, Brian Bo, alone in the city
Hash joint, Ralph's joint
I have them behind again, watching my back
Those pigs got their eyes on me, like Pac
It does not reach the month but it is for real
True shit, na' cut
Hoodie XL, Tactel fabric
Getting the cream, that's the sport
Los Angeles ice and northern whiskey
Lights and crosses, like in the closet
Spoken morse, pulling the bars out of the blocks
You find where and put yourself
I see life in alleys like names under names
My boss doesn't even greet me at that point and I don't know what I know
Invoice at headquarters, but I sweat it.
(Eyo)
Do not have doubts: if it goes down to the street they leave it pure
If he goes up to the office he is not like those whores
From the orchard to the port, from Patraix to the Cedro
From the slopes to the center, from Torrefi to the town. (Yes me)
subway marathons
Alleys and turnstiles, waiting for the moment
In case the cops come, they look from right to left
It looks like Roland Garros, all dressed in Lacoste (Low cost)
They keep listening, not praying to God
Translation rating: 5/5 | Votes: 1

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