More songs by Pure Negga
Description
Lyricist, Composer: Jesus Martinez Sal
Lyrics and translation
Original
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. Queda tanto por ver.
Falling down, siente mi prisma pa' que te ayude a vencer.
Feel the ground, prende el calor de la pista. Más de uno quiere entrar, pero no sale en la lista.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. Llegan los soldiers del reggae again.
Con el fuego en las pupilas, yeah. Yo sé que me miras, mentiras me tiras, sé.
Este juego de la vida se vive y se escribe por impulsos, te avisé.
Tantas tareas pendientes no revisé. Una lección por cada uno de los caminos que pisé.
De todas las que en tus brazos regalé todo mi ser.
Del infierno de tus caricias, paraísos divisé.
Y ni sé cómo se fue la calma sin tu aliento.
Voy a quemar el mundo desde dentro y fumémonos el viento.
Y ni sé cómo se fue la calma sin tu aliento. Fumémonos el viento.
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. Queda tanto por ver.
Falling down, siente mi prisma pa' que te ayude a vencer.
Feel the ground, prende el calor de la pista. Más de uno quiere entrar, pero no sale en la lista.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. Llegan los soldiers del reggae again.
Algo dentro gritaba, quería salir. Se negaba a sentir por miedo a sufrir.
La vida es corta y distraerse de lo que no aporta te hará arrepentirte de no saber ser feliz. Volví a verme en otro desliz. No aprendo a ser un salvaje.
Desde el día en que nací crecí sin miedo.
To' lo conocí, le di consuelo con extraños engaños. Me hice incapaz de mis anhelos.
Aprendí que debo enfrentarme a lo que me aterra. Nada teme aquel que a nada se aferra.
Alimentando el amor, no la guerra, dejo huella en la tierra.
Aprendí alimentando el amor, no la guerra, dejar más huella en la tierra.
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. Queda tanto por ver.
Falling down, siente mi prisma pa' que te ayude a vencer.
Feel the ground, prende el calor de la pista. Más de uno quiere entrar, pero no sale en la lista.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. Llegan los soldiers del reggae again.
Una mañana vi cómo la ciudad ardía.
Fui por el papel, lo prendí y comprendí que mis ojos cansados no creen lo que quieren hacernos creer.
Harto de ver a los grandes pisar a los más vulnerables por miedo a caer.
El pueblo se va a levantar cualquier día, cansado de siempre perder.
English translation
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. There is so much left to see.
Falling down, feel my prism to help you win.
Feel the ground, turn on the heat of the track. More than one wants to enter, but it is not on the list.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. The soldiers of reggae arrive again.
With fire in the pupils, yeah. I know that you look at me, you tell me lies, I know.
This game of life is lived and written on impulse, I warned you.
I didn't review so many pending tasks. A lesson for each of the paths I trod.
Of all those in your arms I gave my entire being.
From the hell of your caresses, I saw paradises.
And I don't even know how the calm went away without your breath.
I'm going to burn the world from within and let's smoke the wind.
And I don't even know how the calm went away without your breath. Let's smoke the wind.
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. There is so much left to see.
Falling down, feel my prism to help you win.
Feel the ground, turn on the heat of the track. More than one wants to enter, but it is not on the list.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. The soldiers of reggae arrive again.
Something inside was screaming, it wanted to get out. He refused to feel for fear of suffering.
Life is short and getting distracted from what doesn't contribute will make you regret not knowing how to be happy. I found myself in another slip. I don't learn to be a savage.
From the day I was born I grew up without fear.
I met him, I gave him comfort with strange deceptions. I became incapable of my desires.
I learned that I must face what terrifies me. He who clings to nothing fears nothing.
Feeding love, not war, he left his mark on the earth.
I learned by feeding love, not war, to leave more of a mark on the earth.
Burning the town, give me the rizzla. There is so much left to see.
Falling down, feel my prism to help you win.
Feel the ground, turn on the heat of the track. More than one wants to enter, but it is not on the list.
Turn it up, my way to feel the drop. The soldiers of reggae arrive again.
One morning I saw how the city was burning.
I went for the paper, turned it on and realized that my tired eyes do not believe what they want us to believe.
Tired of seeing the greats step on the most vulnerable for fear of falling.
The people are going to wake up any day, tired of always losing.