Falsita e Cortesia [English translation]

What do you know about me,

now that I can give you everything

what will you do with me?

Do you want to sneak into my wallet and tell me,

that money kills poetry, until one day it kills you?

What do you talk about,

now that I can tell you everything, what will you say about me?

Do you want to sneak into my head and keep telling me

that money kills poetry, until the day it kills you?

For the cache add a triple nine,

with rap I do like the taxi drivers when its raining,

you want to escape reality but tell me where?

slip with me I will take you somewhere else, Delta 9

Sit down trust me, trust me baby, te quiero

I live now or never, don't ask me who I was

to stop me you must shoot me down like Piero,

let me keep dreaming or wake me up if everything is true

When you project your emotions you, you promise that

whoever is listening in a seat in first class on a bullet train,

rapper who copies,

well dressed with skinny jeans like snakes,

you should remind me to take the comb

I walk over a red carpet,

mud on the shoes,

when I start dancing a tango over the parquet,

barefoot like gipsies with gipsy heart,

I will eat your heart trust me,

breakfast at Tiffany's

Every comment here will cost you a fortune

wind will talk about me in the middle of the storm,

the victim is the music, I will do a survey

you're the one who beats me, in another life not this one.

What do you know about me,

now that I can give you everything

what will you do with me?

Do you want to sneak into my wallet and keep telling me

that money kills poetry until the day it kills you?

What do you talk about,

now that I can tell you everything, what will you say about me?

Night is eternal for lyricists this time again,

the moon kisses the short lived pessimists,

why is it? it's fine by me, doesn't matter,

it's the turning point,

they say you're not the same person you were once

We are dust over a vinyl disc,

our nose into risks,

blessing, Corpus Christi

always tell the kings from the reporters,

this country is too narrow,

we're constrained to play contorsionists.

It's like feeling free,

but with padlocks in the ears

you are the second of silence after the toast.

So embarrassing,

stop acting like a Willy rapper,

your dream is to play the "frrrr" in an indie band,

They're on my court,

as long as I hold it tight I feel this music is mine,

brah, it's harmony

From city to city,

I learn the lesson that this nation is pure fakeness and courtesy.

What do you know about me,

now that I can give you everything

what will you make of me?

Do you want to sneak into my wallet and tell me,

that money kills poetry, until one day it kills you?

What do you talk about, do you want to get into my head and tell me thst money kills poetry until the day it kills you?