Sin Noticias de Holanda
Se oyen sirenas de fondo, en la calle que esta de moda
La madera tras un yonko, que ta corriendo en pelota
Y grita desesperado: La chuta o no hay ropa
Y todos corriendo detras de aquel pobre diablo
Que tan solo hace visible su ansiedad
Y tras la muchedumbre se oyo un comentario
Que junto al olor de aquel chigre me hizo recordar...
Que hoy el cartero me ha dicho, que no hay carta para mi
Poniendome en entredicho que la fuera a recibir
Porque la carta de Holanda entra muy mal en el pais
Huelen demasiado a planta, y hay mucho vicio aqui
Y hay mucho vicio aqui,
Y tras varias deliberaciones
Y dandole muchas vueltas, como le di
Pa que voy a fumar hierba de otras naciones
Pudiendo plantar la mia en este pais...
Y hay quedo el pobre yonko to amoratao
de las ostias que los maderos, le han regalao
Y tras la muchedumbre se oyo un comentario
Que junto al olor de aquel chigre me hizo recordar
Que hoy el cartero me ha dicho...
Y hoy el cartero me ha dicho, que no hay carta para mi
Con los ojos enrojecidos ta riendose de mi
Porque la carta de Holanda entra muy mal en el Pais
Como seras tan canalla, mis plantas son pa mi
Mis plantas son pa mi.
No News from Holland
Sirens are heard in the background, on the trendy street
The wood behind a junkie, who's running naked
And he screams desperately: She shoots or there's no clothes
And everyone running after that poor devil
Who only makes his anxiety visible
And behind the crowd a comment was heard
That, along with the smell of that dive bar, made me remember...
That today the postman told me, there's no letter for me
Putting into question whether I would receive it
Because the letter from Holland doesn't enter the country well
They smell too much like plants, and there's a lot of vice here
And there's a lot of vice here,
And after several deliberations
And thinking it over, as I did
Why would I smoke weed from other nations
When I could plant my own in this country...
And there stood the poor junkie all bruised
from the beatings the cops gave him
And behind the crowd a comment was heard
That, along with the smell of that dive bar, made me remember
That today the postman told me...
And today the postman told me, there's no letter for me
With red eyes, laughing at me
Because the letter from Holland doesn't enter the country well
How can you be so mean, my plants are for me
My plants are for me.