CRINGE Lyrics English Translation by Salmo & Noyz Narcos
I hate these kids who write “cringe” (Eh)
I’d rip out that damn larynx (Ah)
Have you seen how ridiculous your idol is pretending (Yeah)
In the studio, he acts like a phenomenon, but he can’t deliver live
I’d like to escape like John Dillinger
Or end up bad without a nose like a sphinx
I am the devil with ginger hair
I have all the flaws but I’m not from Inter Milan
I don’t follow anyone, you know where to find me
I’m my own enemy, bro, I can’t make alliances (Nah)
I can’t understand
Everyone wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die (Dry)
More tense than a Stradivarius
Between gaps, I spit rhymes like saliva tests
My calligraphy is like lethal weapons
You wet your boots (Eoh)
You say, “Lebon, don’t be bad,” Calligari
Narcos Noyz is back, baby (Uh)
Her buttocks on the hood of my Chevy
I unbutton my Levis (Ah)
I play Tennessee with Ennessi and beers
I spit inside the Pyrex
With cash in the pockets of Virex
Give me the budget, and I’ll balance the books
I’m dropping this bomb of a record
If I die, give me a nice tomb (Ah)
This stuff, as it comes out, flies
Follow the dragon along the foil
Two pigeons with one shot, hit the jackpot
I still rap with a low profile
I’m retro, don’t ignore me, or I’ll kill you
Rocco or polo on the Bermuda shorts, on the Max
And there’s no Judas who can judge me
Judge God at most (Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah)
Now that we count rappers on two hands
I tie the rap industry to my dick
We’re king-size, and we scream loudly, you already know
Like every damn time “Hypnotize” starts
It’s a cult like the body of Christ (Ah)
The last shot in our sex pistols (Tu-tu-tu)
This record plays loudly in the streets (Ao)
It sticks in your head like a na-na-na-na-na
It’s a cult like the body of Christ
You’re like God, I’ve never seen you
This record plays loudly in the streets
It sticks in your head like a na-na-na-na-na
IPA, not Weiss (Yes)
Rapper of the new millennium, they don’t know who Ennio Morricone is
I give it a Western twist
I remain just flipping out and getting depressed
Then I tip my hat like Kayne West (Seh, seh, seh)
I’ll pay a shooter dressed in black on a scooter
To shoot in the mouths of YouTubers
Ok boomer, the pen that doesn’t argue
But it will kill you in your sleep like Kruger (Ah)
Hidden in the hoods of tracksuits, expressionless glares
Made of unknown substances, these kids
Toast to your health with their heads down over the toilet
And an iron under the nose of the clerk (Ah)
Now click boom, get killed like Clint Eastwood
Pit bulls know the way like street view
This is not a movie, you’re not Orlando Bloom
I exit your live stream shouting “Boo”
It’s a cult like the body of Christ
You’re like God, I’ve never seen you
This record plays loudly in the streets
It sticks in your head like a na-na-na-na-na
It’s a cult like the body of Christ
The last shot in our sex pistols
This record plays loudly in the streets
It sticks in your head like a na-na-na-na-na
Check out
Na-na-na-na-na