Poezie de strada [English translation]

Verse 1:

Brothers, hustlers, pimps, thieves, junkies, whores, cops, everyone knows

The curtain won't fall even if these guys put me in a coffin

because then I will be living through you

I know how to put the street on a CD, to be or not to be

in the 'hood life is poetry, lyrics are money,

Days go by, years do to, faster and faster

An unlimited future - you can die without anyone noticing

It's how it's always been and how it'll be forever and always: The amount is what matters on the street

And as for respect: if you don't pay it, you don't get it

No one wants to work for 50 bucks these days,

You want a "standard of living", you've gotta steal it

And if you're smart maybe you'll actually be free to enjoy it

This goes out to you if you're hanging on by a thread,

and still manage to keep your head up: a poem about life

Chorus:

I can get drunk, wake up and get drunk again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give and keep giving non-stop and pour out my soul to you,

This is a street poem about people like me

I can smoke, wake up and smoke again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give and keep giving non-stop and pour out my soul to you,

A street poem about people like me

verse 2:

They say there's no future for the punks on the street,

There'll be nothing for them, nothing, f*** it

Banica didn't want to go to jail either,

But things aren't always how you want them to be,

Especially if you do nothing to help yourself,

Especially if you're doing more harm than good,

We could give a s*** about the law, but STOP

The law in the hood is not to leave anything standing

I chose to do this because there was nothing else to do

And I want to make money out of it because otherwise there's no point to it,

Without pop, without rock, without r&b,

Without undercover cops and demanding hookers,

I have a lot to f*** and a lot to do,

So I won't waste my time talking about losers, I'll just f*** them up

My bros are everything, I represent Pantelimon,

This goes out to all of Romania

I chose to do this, there was nothing else to do

And I want to make money out of it, otherwise there's no point to it

Chorus:

I can get drunk, wake up and get drunk again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give and keep giving non-stop and pour out my soul to you,

This is a street poem about people like me

I can smoke, wake up and smoke again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give and keep giving and pour out my soul to you,

A street poem about people like me

verse 3:

I don't have pact with the devil, but not with God either,

You can call me a bum, a hustler or a tramp

You can call me whatever you please, I don't care,

Everyone I love is waiting for me at home

If they ask me about race I say I'm Latin

Once more for all the homies who've been there for me

The sirens are sounding again in the neighborhood ("Five-o!")

The po-pos are here to put us behind iron bars,

Nothing but love for my daughter Diana,

for Chifler and Luana, for Uzzy and Liana,

Tatae taught me to put my first verses on a piece of paper

Always and forever family,

People know with Greu' we're out hustling again,

Out somewhere, doing some gigs around the country,

It's nighttime, bitches are back on the street again

They're are part of this dirty job too,

The homies are tempted to do a lot of things,

Lucky that there's someone up there to listen to them,

I'll raise another glass and make a toast to the 'hood,

Up here with my boys on another level

Chorus:

I can get drunk, wake up and get drunk again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give non-stop and pour out my soul to you,

This is a street poem about people like me

I can smoke, wake up and smoke again

But there's one thing I'll never forget: getting paid for the show

I can give non-stop and pour out my soul to you,

A street poem about people like me

I chose to do this, there was nothing else to do

And I want to make money out of it, otherwise there's no point to it

I chose to do this, there was nothing else to do

And I want to make money out of it, otherwise there's no point to it

I chose to do this, there was nothing else to do

And I want to make money out of it, otherwise there's no point to it

• Artist:B.U.G. Mafia