Baciami il culo (traduction en anglais)
traduction en anglais
Kiss my ass
What day is it? Don't know!
I've written it on the fly, Polyphemus.
This is a cyclopic rap for you, loser.
Looking forward to your answer.
You would be the mixtape king? Because there's a reason if I´m doing this "diss".
K.I.S.S my ass
You have to kiss my ass Gué
Kiss my ass Gué
Kiss my ass Gué
Suck it to me , Polyphemus!
Kiss my ass cross-eyed Boy, you're Lady Gaga,
the street doesn't give a shit about you.
You're only a sancarlino (rich-born boy), a "G" from Via Torino, a fancy ass from Cordusio, you're no godfather!
You behave like a TV-star, but you're not like Daniele, you're licking my ass just to get to know him.
You don't know what a woman is, you know only bitches
Then you lock yourself in the bathroom and cry in Paranoia.
You rap for Lele Mora (TV-Star), you're the MC of Silvio B. (Berlusconi) you are a shame!
In the hood you don't walk, not even a meter
you smoked your neurons inside a glass bong.
You have to kiss my ass because you're nobody
and If I'm a loser don't copy my style!
Don't copy my look, don't copy my rhymes,
stay inside your privé with your fake Showgirls.
You had to be a football player, you chose the wrong job,
worst loser on the jet-set because of blowjobs.
You got far, but now your asshole is ripped
and people know how dumb is the "Guercio" (one-eyed)
you managed to make money (really!?), you've always been rich,
in your crew nobody has ever slept on a street yo.
I know that I'm your hero, I'm your favourite,
but stop trying to fuck me, dumbass!
You saw "City of God" but you only shoot blanks
you flee, cry and call your guards, when it gets violent.
I know the TV world, fucker, I was there before
and I know that it's shit and you're a latrine.
It's really for you, you enjoy stayng there,
I wash away shit with all your money.
It takes me three seconds, when I come, you hide,
you can convice children, not villains.
I piss on you, I shit on your face,
you come to a squat to meet me face to face.
In squats because I don't have a home
I am a stray dog of no race, always on the sreet.
In the real life, the one you don't know,
No Audi, no Lexus, I travel by public transport.
And stick it in your head, you're not Dwayne Wade
and that fucker you hung around with, is not a DJ.
When you rap, breathe, you can't even stand,
I saw a couple of your shows you were out of your mind.
You're not even worth a DJ Gruff's pubic hair
your public is still dealing with puberty.
You have always been someone to fuck for making money
you're easy, any pusher can buy you.
He's the opposite of Lou Reed, when he sees you, he laughs,
you're playing Scarface with your 0.9 of mannitol.
You're just a poor thing, a fake thug,
a puppet of the system, you're a mannequin.
If you reply to this joke, I'll really have fun
in sending you to the graveyard in four pieces.
You're a chimney, you're polluting the game,
you're a cancer, evil, you should set yourself on fire.
Jump off a train, jump off a bridge,
kiss the ground because you're in front of a true MC.
You're used to ass licking, you have no guts
71 is your number go check the "smorfia" (71 means "piece of shit")
I know you're not even worth to be dissed
this gag is for every rhyme you copied from me.
It's a straight line and I know on which side I am,
I don't care if you're protected because I am Hip Hop,
one of my b-Boy worths 106 of yours and you know it.
Glory to my gang, it's an outright attack on your covered asses,
I'm a crazy Kamikaze, fire on who's fake.
You will kiss every hair on these pink cheeks,
rest in peace Gué you're only a puppet.
You're my whore, but I fuck your ass for free
you know well that I open you up, fake arab/african.
My blade will stab your heart like a fish
you're laughable, you're little, you're not hardcore.
You're Briatore's slave, Gué you're Naomi
I beat you in italian, arabic, suomi and swahili.
Keep up with clubs and leave rapping,
I introduce you the real Mixtape king, Mr.Quaraquaqua (big talker).