Moneda Dura — Callejero song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Callejero" by Moneda Dura.
Lyrics
Y yo no quiero su dinero
No quiero que me lleve al extranjero
No quiero ir en su carro a Varadero
Oiga, no se confunda…
Y yo no quiero su dinero
No quiero que me lleve al extranjero
No quiero ir en su carro a Varadero
Oiga, no se confunda
Que yo no soy un callejero
Ella subió al avión en la mañana
Después de 9 horas aterrizó en La Habana
Se fue a hospedar en la casa de mi vecina
La señora venía buscando golosina
Y yo salía de mi casa, ella bajaba la escalera
Y me dijo: Llévame a bailar la noche entera
La señora pasaba los 50
Pero le gustaba que yo no llegara a 30
Y me dijo: Vine a tu país a vacilar
Y quiero que me pongas esta noche a guarachar;
Tu me dices después cuanto te tengo que pagar
Y yo le dije: Usted se confundió. señora
Échese pa' allá que…
Yo no quiero su dinero
No quiero que me lleve al extranjero
No quiero ir en su carro a Varadero
Oiga, no se confunda
Que yo no soy un callejero
Yo no quiero su dinero
No quiero que me lleve al extranjero
No quiero ir en su carro a Varadero
Oiga, no se confunda
Que yo no soy un callejero
Señora, parece que le dijeron
Que aqui la gente corre
Cuando usted enseña el dinero
Y piensa que por eso
Los cubanos somos menos
Pero viene a guarachar a Cuba
Le gusta cómo se lo hacemos
Resulta que yo tengo una cubana
Con unos ojos negros
Más oscuros que un apagón en La Habana
Me da su cariñito temprano en la mañana
A la hora de comer y también por la madrugada
Usted se va a su casa sin probar mi sabrosura
Porque con su dinero no se toca mi locura
Y escuche lo que dice mi canción:
No soy del Corte Inglés, ni me vendo en Benetton
Yo no quiero su dinero
No quiero que me lleve al extranjero
No quiero ir en su carro a Varadero
Oiga, no se confunda
Que yo no soy un callejero
Yo no quiero…
(Rapeando en italiano)
Signora, non capici quel che dicho
Vieni arribata e mi domanda per I soldi
No capici che io vendo le emozioni
No hai abastanza, ma il mio cuore
Appartiene a una mulata
Sonop cubanl della Habana
Della strada, pero non vendo per soldi
La mia anima…
Yo no quiero…
Lyrics translation
And I don't want your money
I don't want him to take me abroad.
I don't want to go in your car to Varadero
Hey, don't get confused.…
And I don't want your money
I don't want him to take me abroad.
I don't want to go in your car to Varadero
Hey, don't get confused.
That I'm not a streetwalker
She got on the plane in the morning
After 9 hours landed in Havana
She went to stay at my neighbor's House
The lady came looking for candy
And I'd leave my house, she'd go down the stairs
And he said, " Take Me Dancing the whole night."
The lady was over 50
But he liked me not to reach 30
And he said to me: I came to your country to falter
And I want you to put me tonight to guarachar;
You tell me later how much I have to pay you
And I said, You got confused. lady
Lie down over there that…
I don't want your money.
I don't want him to take me abroad.
I don't want to go in your car to Varadero
Hey, don't get confused.
That I'm not a streetwalker
I don't want your money.
I don't want him to take me abroad.
I don't want to go in your car to Varadero
Hey, don't get confused.
That I'm not a streetwalker
Ma'am, it looks like you were told
That here people run
When you teach money
And he thinks that's why
Cubans are less
But he comes to guarachar to Cuba
He likes the way we do it.
I happen to have a Cuban.
With black eyes
Darker than a blackout in Havana
He gives me his little darling early in the morning
At lunchtime and also in the morning
You go home without tasting my savoury
Because your money doesn't touch my madness
And listen to what my song says:
I'm not from the English court, nor do I sell in Benetton
I don't want your money.
I don't want him to take me abroad.
I don't want to go in your car to Varadero
Hey, don't get confused.
That I'm not a streetwalker
I don't want to…
(Rapping in Italian)
Ma'am, you don't understand what I'm saying.
You come here and ask me for the money
No understand that I sell emotions
No you have abastanza, but my heart
It belongs to a mulatto
Sonop cubanl of Havana
Of the street, but I do not sell for money
My soul…
I don't want to…