Molotov — Frijolero song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Frijolero" by Molotov.
Lyrics
Yo ya estoy hasta la madre
de que me pongan sombrero,
escucha entonces cuando digo:
No me llames frijolero.
Y aunque exista algún respeto,
no metamos las narices.
Nunca inflamos la moneda,
haciendo guerra a otros países.
Te pagamos con petróleo
e intereses, nuestra deuda.
Mientras tanto no sabemos
quién se queda con la feria.
Aunque nos hagan la fama
de que somos vendedores.
De la droga que sembramos,
ustedes son consumidores.
Don’t call me gringo,
You fuckin' beaner.
Stay on your side
of that goddamn river.
Don’t call me gringo,
You beaner.
No me digas beaner,
Mr. Puñetero.
Te sacaréun susto
por racista y culero.
No me llames frijolero,
Pinche gringo puñetero.
(Chingao')
Now I wish I had a dime
for every single time
I’ve gotten stared down
for being in the wrong side of town.
And a rich man I’d be if I had that kind of chips.
Lately I wanna smack the mouths
of these racists.
Podrás imaginarte desde afuera,
ser un Mexicano cruzando la frontera,
pensando en tu familia mientras que pasas,
dejando todo lo que túconoces atrás.
tuvieras túque esquivar las balas
de unos cuantos gringos rancheros.
¿Les seguirás diciendo: ???good for nothing wetback???
si tuvieras túque empezar de cero?
Now why don’t you look down
to where your feet is planted.
That U.S. soil that makes you take shit for granted.
If not for Santa Ana, just to let you know
that where your feet are planted would be Mexico.
¡Correcto!
Lyrics translation
I'm already up to the mother
that they put a hat on me,
listen then when I say:
Don't call me a bean.
And even if there is some respect,
let's not stick our noses in.
We never inflate the currency,
making war on other countries.
We pay you with oil
and interest, our debt.
Meanwhile we don't know
who gets the fair.
Even if they make us famous
that we're salesmen.
Of the drug we sow,
you're consumers.
Don't call me gringo,
You fuckin ' beaner.
Stay on your side
of that damn river.
Don't call me gringo,
You beaner.
Don't call me beaner.,
Mr. Fucking.
I'll scare you off.
for racist and culero.
Don't call me a bean.,
Fucking gringo prick.
(Chingao')
Now I wish I had a dime
for every single time
I've got stared down
for being in the wrong side of town.
And a rich man I'd be if I had that kind of chips.
Lately I wanna smack the mouths
of these racists.
You can imagine from the outside,
being a Mexican crossing the border,
thinking about your family as you pass by,
leaving everything you know behind.
you had to dodge the bullets.
a few gringos ranchers.
Will you keep telling them:??good for nothing wetback???
if you had just started from scratch?
Now why don't you look down
to where your feet is planted.
That U.S. soil that makes you take shit for granted.
If not for Santa Ana, just to let you know
that where your feet are planted would be Mexico.
Correct!