Lyrics of The Memphis Blues (A Touch of the Blues) - Lee Wiley

The Memphis Blues (A Touch of the Blues) - Lee Wiley
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Memphis Blues (A Touch of the Blues), artist - Lee Wiley. Album song Four Classic Albums Plus (Night in Manhattan / Lee Wiley Sings Vincent Youmans & Irving Berlin / West of the Moon / A Touch of the Blues), in the genre Джаз
Date of issue: 01.03.2014
Record label: Avid Entertainment
Song language: French

The Memphis Blues (A Touch of the Blues)

(original)
J’crache plus par terre, j’traite plus les mères
J’traverse que quand le p’tit bonhomme est vert
Depuis qu’j’suis plus une caille-ra,
J’ai largué mon pitbull,
j’ai pé-cho un chihuahua.
Ah ouais?
Ben moi mon caniche s’appelle Scott,
Et j’ramasse toujours quand toutou fait sa crotte.
J’suis passé de brute épaisse à secouriste,
Et j’ai troqué mon Scarface pour Les Choristes.
Moi j’ai arrêté les grecs-frites,
j’fume pas d’shit,
j’dis même bonjour aux shmitts.
J’me lève plus tôt qu’les mamies,
J’donne du pain aux p’tits oiseaux
et j’nourris les chats la nuit.
HUSS HUSS
Moi c’est fini la boxe thaï
J’fais du tricot, j’bataille avec les mailles.
HUSS
Après les courses j’ai vu une pomme impayée dans mon cabas,
Direct j’ai fait l'17, j’me suis lance-ba.
«Allô police, pour la pomme, c'était moi…"(Oh!)
J’crache plus par terre, j’traite plus les mères
J’traverse que quand le p’tit bonhomme est vert
Dans l’métro j’arrête de gruger,
J’ai mon ticket,
j’laisse ma place aux personnes âgées.
Souriant face aux indigents,
et si j’trouve de l’argent,
j’le remets à monsieur l’agent.
Moi j’suis un vrai gentleman avec les dames
En mode galant homme, fini les polygames.
D’abord je me tiens droit j'écris des poèmes
Moi j’traîne pas les pieds j’parle pas la bouche pleine.
J’dis plus «ouais gros, trop michto"mais plutôt
«Bravissimo ce chevreau sur son lit de poireaux».
J’répondais à ma maman qui disait «mange tes pâtes!»
Maintenant j’suis diplomate et maman j’l'épate!
Moi aussi je soigne mon français,
plus de «ouais vas-y!»
Que des «très cher», «formidable», façon bourgeoisie.
Chasse, pêche, tradition plus d’herbes sur les dents
J'écoute du Céline Dion.
«Pour que tu m’aimes encooooore…»
J’crache plus par terre, j’traite plus les mères
J’traverse que quand le p’tit bonhomme est vert
(translation)
I don't spit on the floor anymore, I don't treat mothers anymore
I only cross when the little guy is green
Since I'm no longer a quail-ra,
I dumped my pitbull,
I pe-cho a chihuahua.
Oh yeah?
Well, my poodle is called Scott,
And I always pick up when doggie poops.
I went from thick brute to rescuer,
And I swapped my Scarface for Les Choristes.
I stopped the Greek fries,
I don't smoke weed,
I even say hello to the shmitts.
I get up earlier than the grannies,
I give bread to the little birds
and I feed the cats at night.
HUSS HUSS
I'm done Thai boxing
I knit, I fight with stitches.
HUSS
After shopping I saw an unpaid apple in my shopping bag,
Direct I made the 17, I started ba.
"Hello police, for the apple, it was me..." (Oh!)
I don't spit on the floor anymore, I don't treat mothers anymore
I only cross when the little guy is green
In the subway I stop cheating,
I have my ticket
I leave my place to the elderly.
Smiling in the face of the needy,
and if I find money,
I give it to the agent.
Me, I'm a real gentleman with the ladies
In galant man mode, no more polygamists.
First I stand straight I write poems
I don't drag my feet, I don't talk with my mouth full.
I no longer say "yeah big, too michto" but rather
"Bravissimo this kid on his bed of leeks".
I was answering my mom who said "eat your pasta!"
Now I'm a diplomat and mom I amaze!
I too am taking care of my French,
no more "yeah go!"
Only "very expensive", "formidable", way bourgeoisie.
Hunting, fishing, tradition more herbs on the teeth
I listen to Celine Dion.
“For you to love me again…”
I don't spit on the floor anymore, I don't treat mothers anymore
I only cross when the little guy is green
Translation rating: 5/5 | Votes: 1

Song tags: #The Memphis Blues


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Artist lyrics: Lee Wiley