LOS ANGELES Lyrics (English Translation) – Promessa

[Intro]
Okay, Promé, what’s it like?
Seh, seh
It sounds like Los Angeles

[Chorus]
Promé, what’s it like? Don’t look at me, you know
Above a bench with the sun and the grass, it looks like Los Angeles
It’s no use crying
We’re not in this world just to grow up
It was sunny but now it’s hailing
You know me well, when I drink I talk in circles
Every bro has a valve story
At the table in twenty but no table

[Verse 1]
Catch me in Bico’, rich with mon’ in my pocket
In a narrow alley that you have to enter in profile
Kid with a profit fixation, a cop stares at him (What the f**k do you want?)
And pretends he’s getting a ring
In a bilo’ mica library, more sheets than the Bible
Turns to recover like pyres in the stack
I come from where you collapse in the morning
And the coffee shop is in the building’s stairs
In overalls, not in G-Star
Little talents, without the hash’ we could play in Milan (You know it, yeah)
I’m with Christian in the back, not on the track
Used to get in without being on the list (It’s practice)
Out of the house since I was just Peter
I made myself as big as sixty-six in glass
I wrote bars in the subway
Until I missed the stop and had to walk back

[Chorus].
Prome, what’s it like? Don’t look at me, you know
Above a bench with the sun and the grass, it looks like Los Angeles
It’s no use crying
We’re not in this world just to grow up
It was sunny but now it’s hailing
You know me well, when I drink I talk in circles
Every bro has a valve story
At the table in twenty but no table

[Verse 2]
I find no solution but to make another
In class I was out of tune as high notes
Police would like the names and connect the faces
In my zone those who want names they call infamous
In my zone a fra’ gets by, doesn’t ask his mother
Until the mother asks him how he makes a living
I don’t pass the club, I stay out with the vermouth, gin and Campari
And all my buddies, I learned that
For every junkie who balances dinner there’s a guy inside the restaurant
And every drop of champagne is a tear for not knowing how to say, “Enough”
Sea view, I toast and say, “Thank you,” I still think, “Bico’ I miss it”
I appreciate what’s next to me like inside a hospital
I reflect as we take teen for a smoke

[Chorus]
Promé, what’s it like? Don’t look at me, you know
Above a bench with sun and grass, it looks like Los Angeles
It’s no use crying
We’re not in this world just to grow up
It was sunny but now it’s hailing
You know me well, when I drink I talk in circles
Every bro has a valve story
At the table in twenty but no table