Lyrics of Telefonate - Tedua, Izi

Telefonate - Tedua, Izi
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Telefonate, artist - Tedua. Album song Orange County California, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.01.2017
Record label: Universal Music Italia
Song language: Italian

Telefonate

(original)
Uh, uh
(Gang, gang, gang)
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
(Gang, gang, gang, gang)
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Baby, non ho perso un pezzo di me
Ben più, di più, però ho più da dire
Il dolore avvolge, a volte
E porge l’altra guancia, no ai porci della Finanza
Sai quanta acqua sotto ai ponti deve ancora venire
Roccia, per scalfire una roccia occorre una tempesta
Che sia funesta, come l’ira di Achille
Chi si è espresso ha reso un’idea
Sono riemerso in superficie, finendo l’apnea
No, non appena avrò una motocross, la userò
Su di una duna della luna
Chi trova la zona non trova un tesoro
Chi trova un tesoro, se non torna in zona
Non trova perdono
So che siamo nati dalle costole, ma di conseguenza non so
Come mai venga l’odio e l’istinto
Di far di tutta l’erba un fascio
O cercare il pelo nell’uovo per quello che faccio
Mi chiama per fare soldi, good mornin'
Tedua, tu corri via dagli infami
Fammi fare le mie telefonate
A te che ne rimane
Retate per delle ettate
Eh, Izeh, Izeh
No, no, no
Da noi mancava sempre il pane
Mancava dentro al piatto e lo dovevo disegnare
Matite, fogli A4: davo forma alla mia vita, sì
Sì, come sul palco, come quando si è felici, sì
Sto con la mia gang shit, sto con la mia gang shit
Sopra quell’Enjoy rossa che sfreccia ai centoventi
Con Tedua, Bresh e Nolan sorvoliamo le correnti
Sei giù con i miei testi da un pochino e te li segni
Come soldi da dare, come assegni, come impegni che non hai
Te l’inventi lì sul momento, non dire cose se poi non sai
Non far lo stronzo no, non ti sento
Non ho sentito mani dall’alto, sì, fino a quando non ero pronto
Non stavo sobrio, manco un secondo
E che ero troppo pronto già al pronto soccorso
So che siamo nati dalle costole, ma di conseguenza non so
Come mai venga l’odio e l’istinto
Di far di tutta l’erba un fascio
O cercare il pelo nell’uovo per quello che faccio
Mi chiama per fare soldi, good mornin'
Tedua, tu corri via dagli infami
Fammi fare le mie telefonate
A te che ne rimane
Retate per delle ettate
(translation)
Uh, uh
(Gang, gang, gang)
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
(Gang, gang, gang, gang)
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Baby, I haven't lost a piece of myself
Much more, more, but I have more to say
Pain envelops, at times
And he turns the other cheek, no to the pigs of the Finance Department
You know how much water under the bridges is yet to come
Rock, a storm is needed to scratch a rock
May it be fatal, like the anger of Achilles
Those who have spoken have made an idea
I resurfaced to the surface, finishing my freediving
No, as soon as I have a motocross, I will use it
On a dune of the moon
Whoever finds the area does not find a treasure
Whoever finds a treasure if he doesn't go back to the area
He finds no forgiveness
I know we were born from the ribs, but as a result I don't know
How come hatred and instinct
To make a bundle of all the grass
Or nitpick for what I do
Call me to make money, good mornin '
Tedua, you run away from the infamous
Let me make my calls
What remains of it to you
Roundups for hectares
Eh, Izeh, Izeh
No, no, no
We always lacked bread
It was missing inside the plate and I had to draw it
Pencils, A4 sheets: I was giving shape to my life, yes
Yes, like on stage, like when you are happy, yes
I'm with my gang shit, I'm with my gang shit
Above that red Enjoy speeding at one hundred and twenty
With Tedua, Bresh and Nolan we fly over the currents
You've been down with my texts for a while and you mark them
As money to give, as checks, as commitments you don't have
You invent it on the spot, don't say things if you don't know
Don't be an asshole, no, I don't hear you
I didn't feel hands from above, yes, until I was ready
I wasn't sober, I miss a second
And that I was too ready in the ER already
I know we were born from the ribs, but as a result I don't know
How come hatred and instinct
To make a bundle of all the grass
Or nitpick for what I do
Call me to make money, good mornin '
Tedua, you run away from the infamous
Let me make my calls
What remains of it to you
Roundups for hectares
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Artist lyrics: Tedua
Artist lyrics: Izi