Dai cazzo Federico [English translation]

My album is in the stores and you’re already downloading it

Time is short but i feel my asshole getting looser

It’s true that the crisis is changing us

“Hello, what’s this little girl’s name?” “Armando”

My fans’ behavior, i swear, it’s stressing me

They would ask me for a picture even when i’m taking a shit

And with all of this affection i’m touched, but let me go to the toilet cause i’m shitting myself

I don’t care if my colleagues say that i’m not cool

Their ass stings and i have nettles on my dick

Put on heels made out of cement and drown with your fucking trashy albums

When i was at jam you were eating bruschetta

Your dj brings in the plates, you the knife and the fork

Your chick is platinum blonde and she also has bangs, but when you kiss her it looks like you’re making out with David Guetta.

Fuck, come on Federico, you throw yourself on social work

But when you do throw yourself, be careful not to get hurt

You run barefoot on glasses as long as you can

And don’t worry when you’ll end up in shit

If you have your ass on the ground you know that when you’ll get back up

We, you guys, you guys won’t be there anymore

My rap is a caress with greasy hands

Among two-faced snitches and sluts with split ends

Your two sold albums, they were not achieved

If i fail we’ll go and delivery pizza with a scooter

My manager doesn’t know that i have anxiety and i sweat

He smokes pot and then collapses on the couch of the studio

But here often the feeling of belonging hides a dark side, like when an ugly nose makes you lose a nice ass

Eh, sorry, is it true that you rappers are not real artist?

That you sell your ass even before you sell albums?

You write lines but you hate communist manifestos

But now Guè produces like Eminem with Fifty

“You guys are fake, always coping americans, fuck”

Among Tiziano who was gay and was a lady’s killer

And people who made themselves a career by copying Eminem’s lyrics

If you’re looking for two-faced here you’ve got fertile ground

You’re looking flaccid

Like a dick with erectile dysfunction

Fuck, come on Federico, you throw yourself on social work

But when you do throw yourself, be careful not to get hurt

You run barefoot on glass as long as you can

And don’t worry when you’ll end up in shit

If you have your ass on the ground you know that when you’ll get back up

We, you guys, you guys won’t be there anymore

You say i’m fake because i go around with a tutu

And that real hip-hop is the one your crew does

But then they see some pennies and look what they do

Sing a single in auto-tune

What’s up now with your culture?

At least i don’t fill my mouth with trash

I gave away an album with a high budget

And you sell for five euros a mixtape with ten tracks

If they put us in handcuffs for illegal albums

Divide inmates by music genres

Going to jail already seems like a bad deal

It would be very bad luck to end up in a cell with a Povia fan

“Fedez, it is true that at your live shows there’s MD with tonic water going around?”

“And that you’re the great master of a masonic lodge”

“Is it true that you play the harmonizer with your ass?”

“And you come up with even better tracks than your usual music.”

Fuck, come on Federico, you throw yourself on social work

But when you do throw yourself, be careful not to get hurt

You run barefoot on glasses as long as you can

And don’t worry when you’ll end up in shit

If you have your ass on the ground you know that when you’ll get back up

We, you guys, you guys won’t be there anymore