La Pelle Nera/Johnny B. Goode/Black Betty/Angeli Negri - Mina

Ehi, ehi, ehi dimmi Wilson Pickett

Ehi, ehi, ehi dimmi tu James Brown

Questa voce dove la trovate?

Signor King, signor Charles, signor Brown

Io faccio tutto per poter cantar come voi

Ma non c'è niente da fare, non ci riuscirò mai

E penso che sia soltanto per il mio color che non va

Ecco perché io vorrei, vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Ehi, ehi, ehi dimmi tu signor Faust

Ehi, ehi, ehi dimmi come si può

Arrostire un negretto ogni tanto con la massima serenità

Io dico cara tu non ci dovresti pensar

Ma non c'è niente da fare per dimenticar

'Sto maledetto colore di pelle che mi brucia un po'

Ecco perché io vorrei… vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans

Way back up in the woods among the evergreens

There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood

Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode

Who never ever learned to read or write so well

But he could play a guitar just like a ringing a bell

Go go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Johnny B. Goode

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Vorrei la pelle nera

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

She really get me high, bambalam

You know that’s no lie, bambalam

Shes so rock steady, bambalam

Oh shes always ready, bambalam

She really get me high, bambalam

You know that’s no lie, bambalam

Shes so rock steady, bambalam

Oh shes always ready, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Pittore, ti voglio parlare

(Pintor nacido en mi tierra)

Mentre dipingi un altare

(Con el pincel extranjero)

Io sono un povero negro

(Pintor que sigues el rumbo)

E d’una cosa ti prego

(De tantos pintores viejos)

Hey, hey, hey tell me Wilson Pickett

Hey, hey, hey you tell me James Brown

Where do you find this item?

Mr. King, Mr. Charles, Mr. Brown

I do everything to be able to sing like you

But there is nothing to be done, I will never succeed

And I think it's just my color that's wrong

That's why I would like, I would like black skin

I would like black leather

Hey, hey, hey you tell me Mr. Faust

Hey, hey, hey tell me how you can

Roasting a little black man every now and then with the utmost serenity

I say dear you shouldn't think about it

But there is nothing to be done to forget

'I'm damn skin color that burns me a little

That's why I want ... I want black skin

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans

Way back up in the woods among the evergreens

There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood

Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode

Who never ever learned to read or write so well

But he could play a guitar just like a ringing a bell

Go go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go

Johnny B. Goode

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

I would like black leather

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

She really get me high, bambalam

You know that’s no lie, bambalam

She shes so rock steady, bambalam

Oh she shes always ready, bambalam

She she really get me high, bambalam

You know that’s no lie, bambalam

She shes so rock steady, bambalam

Oh she shes always ready, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Whoa Black Betty, bambalam

Painter, I want to talk to you

(Pintor nacido en mi tierra)

While you are painting an altar

(With el pincel extranjero)

I am a poor nigga

(Pintor que sigues el rumbo)

And of one thing please

(De tantos pintores viejos)