Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Vato Loco, artist - Noyz Narcos. Album song Enemy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.04.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Thaurus
Song language: Italian
Vato Loco(original) |
Aye, check it |
Seh, seh |
Me porto Roma a Milano su 'na spalla, a verme |
Le mie rime, le mie N sulle transenne |
Premier, questa gente vuole un pezzo tuo |
Suona la campana, scendo in campo in maglia nero fluo |
Esco dal locale col piumino tuo, the million man rush |
Rimbomba nel mio teschio: «Sganciate er cash» |
Fluido in pezzi verdi giusto paro sull’unghia |
La regola che conta in questa giungla |
Che mi punga questo gelo o meno, resto caldo |
A parte questo cielo non ci starà nient’altro |
I soldi dei contratti, quelli che faccio li ho alzati con altri |
Non addormentarti, grinda sempre fino a sera tardi |
Mic check, sono il taglio sulla mano scritta Roma, segna i nomi |
Voi siete i rapper dei miei coglioni |
Tuo zio parla bene, Dio mi tiene in ballo come la gadro |
Cambia il tuo bambino in un bastardo ladro |
Fuori dai cancelli, liberato |
È uscito il 9 maggio e fa festa |
Fuochi d’artificio, viva merda gangsta |
La mia testa tende verso il fuoco |
Vero verso il gioco |
'Sta merda corre per il sangue, vato loco |
Lungo il mio percorso lascio oro colato, tag nero |
Lettere sui muri sono alfabeto, vangelo |
Quando tutto è nato e crescevo, io c’ero |
E me te lego ar cazzo |
E sei già morto senza che t’ammazzo |
Via con me, Paolo Conte |
Centro in piena fronte sulla faccia tua |
Shot, pallottole, vodka, Kahlúa, 'cci tua |
Coi soldi che hai fatto mandi mai 'n cazzo |
E che gente, ricco e ce fai pure 'r pezzente |
Brindo coi ragazzi bravi ai sordi che faremo e ve ringrazio tanto |
Pago al ristorante, me sto ristorando |
Metti un’altra boccia di 'sta perla sopra il mio conto |
Qualsiasi altra merda è piscio a confronto |
It’s fucking good sir |
It’s fucking crystal |
Everything else is piss |
Bellboy, Bellboy, Bellboy! |
Shut up. |
Shut up! |
Shh! |
Shut up! |
You’re makin' my friend Ted nervous |
Chill out, chill out, chill out |
(translation) |
Aye, check it |
Seh, seh |
I take Rome to Milan on my shoulder, like a worm |
My rhymes, my N's on the barriers |
Premier, these people want your piece |
The bell rings, I take the field in a fluorescent black jersey |
I leave the club with your duvet, the million man rush |
Booms in my skull: "Unhooked for cash" |
Fluid in green pieces just paro on the nail |
The rule that matters in this jungle |
Whether this cold stings me or not, I stay warm |
Apart from this sky there will be nothing else |
The money from the contracts, the ones I make, I raised them with others |
Don't fall asleep, always grate until late at night |
Mic check, are the cut on the hand written Rome, mark the names |
You are the rappers of my balls |
Your uncle speaks well, God keeps me in the dance like the gadro |
Change your baby into a thief bastard |
Outside the gates, set free |
It came out on May 9th and celebrates |
Fireworks, long live gangsta shit |
My head tends towards the fire |
True to the game |
'This shit runs for the blood, vato loco |
Along my path I leave cast gold, black tag |
Letters on the walls are alphabet, gospel |
When everything was born and I was growing up, I was there |
And me you lego ar fucking |
And you are already dead without me killing you |
Go away with me, Paolo Conte |
Center full forehead on your face |
Shot, bullets, vodka, Kahlúa, 'cci your |
With the money you made, you never fucking send |
And what people, rich and you do well 'r beggar |
I toast with the good guys to the deaf that we will do and thank you so much |
I pay at the restaurant, I'm refreshing myself |
Put another bowl of this pearl on my bill |
Any other shit is piss in comparison |
It's fucking good sir |
It's fucking crystal |
Everything else is piss |
Bellboy, Bellboy, Bellboy! |
Shut up. |
Shut up! |
Shh! |
Shut up! |
You're makin 'my friend Ted nervous |
Chill out, chill out, chill out |