Lyrics of You Don't Know - T&k

You Don't Know (original)

Goodfellas motherfuckers
Goodfellas ok
Muchos no saben lo que digo
Por razones lógicas no entienden de sonido
Rimo como escribo, ya no pienso rimas buenas
Lo saco para afuera como si molestan flemas
No escuchan mis temas
¿Me conocen?
No es problema
El problema nace de la confusión que eso genera
Estoy afuera
De la crema quinceañera
De topos con new era
Que no aprecian la esencia de las pistas noventeras
¿Y que mas da?
Esta el que vive de mama
Te apunta con el dedo y te dice no sos real
Salgan a la calle, abran los ojos y pateen
Al rap que está escondido y tu monitor no ve
Yo tengo poesía para todo policía
Mis textos van rellenos como charro de maría
Los cortes de mi broda DJ Pharuk es cortesía
Fillin' in the sound true, mi crew te lo explica nigga
Se muy bien que significa
Que nadie te conozca si las cosas se complican
Que no te reconozcan lo que luego te critican
Y que escondan la mano cuando el piedrazo nos pica
(What?) La ciudad se queda chica
Y como no nos tragan al final se la mastican
Yo tengo mi mambo, rapero al mango
No me vendo por dos mangos y odio tu rap marica
Hago el rap que quiero hacer
Y elegiría este flash si es que así vuelvo a nacer
Lo mío es estar como LeBron con un esférico
Ser George Schunk cruzando fronteras de México
Pueden considerarme escéptico
Alérgico a raperos de TV y CD’s patéticos
Lo mío no es gang ni new
Solo lo traje del Sur
No hago papel de thug, solo respeto a mi school
Goodfellas rankeando la rela
Produciendo buena mierda
Que se esconde en Varela
Hay talento, reconocimiento en pavimento
También hay muchos giles que te escupen contra el viento
Lo mio no son cuatro elementos (cuatro elementos)
Son ramas y raíces que aplique en tempos bien lentos
Si quieren aprender, aprendan a no depender
De productores, de beatmakers o de MCs sin ofender
Todo es una mierda, así van a entender
Que el que no es falso no te ayuda y el otro no duda en venderse

(translation)

goodfellas motherfuckers
goodfellas ok
Many do not know what I say
For logical reasons they do not understand sound
I rhyme as I write, I don't think good rhymes anymore
I take it outside as if phlegm bothers
They don't listen to my tracks
Do you know me?
It is no problem
The problem arises from the confusion that this generates
I'm outside
Of the quinceañera cream
Of moles with new era
That they do not appreciate the essence of the nineties tracks
And what else gives?
There is the one who lives off mom
He points his finger at you and tells you you're not real
Get out on the street, open your eyes and kick
To the rap that is hidden and your monitor does not see
I have poetry for all police
My texts are stuffed like charro de María
The cuts of my broda DJ Pharuk is courtesy
Fillin' in the sound true, my crew explain it to you nigga
I know very well what it means
That nobody knows you if things get complicated
That they do not recognize what later they criticize you
And that they hide their hand when the stone stings us
(What?) The city stays small
And since they don't swallow us in the end they chew it
I have my mambo, rapper to the mango
I'm not selling myself for two bucks and I hate your fagot rap
I do the rap that I want to do
And I would choose this flash if that's how I'm born again
My thing is to be like LeBron with a ball
Being George Schunk crossing the borders of Mexico
You may consider me skeptical
Allergic to TV rappers and pathetic CD's
Mine is not gang or new
I just brought it from the South
I don't play thug, I just respect my school
Goodfellas ranking the relationship
producing good shit
What is hidden in Varela
There is talent, recognition on the pavement
There are also many giles who spit on you against the wind
My thing is not four elements (four elements)
They are branches and roots that I apply at very slow tempos
If you want to learn, learn not to depend
From producers, beatmakers or MCs no offense
Everything is bullshit, so they will understand
That the one who is not false does not help you and the other does not hesitate to sell himself