Lazza JEFE Lyrics English Translation

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Shot out 808 Melo, uh

I shoot a goal (uh)

Uh, they shout: 'Mob'

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

Christian Dior (uh)

Uh, you guess not

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

I can't now, babe, better call me later

I flip these euros in the air like a skater

You know I only lower my head when a string comes undone

I melt these platinums and make a chain more tongue than your tongue

You only do TikTok, A.P. it does not tick-tock

Misha's ass, looks like I have NOS

You stupid tap dance, I do business

More than a friend who carries two parcels

You turn your life and smoke a cigarette

Yes, brother, up to the filter, you smoke your fingers

Gold fever, Ennio Morricone

They hang a picture of Monet on the wall (Monet)

Got a Gotye shirt (Gotye)

You do me the favor, go home asap like Bari

If you made a mistake you touch my girlfriend (oh)

I pierce your hands (hey) like Luca Brasi

I shoot a goal (uh)

Uh, they shout: 'Mob'

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

Christian Dior (uh)

Uh, you guess not

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

I never run out of rhymes, it seems like I do it on purpose (uh)

Flow change on a piece ten times like it looks like it's a postdrug (rrr)

We send to fuck you first, then your lordship

Tell FIMI that I have written films

I don't want the gold, I want the Oscar

I hate almost every dumb talent (talent)

You have no idea what a sclero I get (I get)

I swear, it's not to stereotype ('apparently)

But you, brother, in my stereo? Do you think (bleh)

All this poison remains it hurts that maybe it makes it less pissing

As a child I was full of pare (apparent)

I locked myself up and threw away the key (ah)

Poof-poof-poof, pass, but you don't get the lace

Because they know you're not a brother

But they know you're an outhouse

Wrist goes 'bling', neck goes 'blaow'

You sing like in gospel choirs

And send a bro to Jodie Foster impeachment

For five g inside Tommy boxers

I shoot a goal (uh)

Uh, they shout: 'Mob'

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

Christian Dior (uh)

Uh, you guess not

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

They call me Jefe, Jefe (Jefe, Jefe, Jefe, Jefe)

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