Learn Portuguese With Ludmilla with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)

Paraíso invites you to travel through the timeline of a relationship that blossoms from hushed, hand-holding innocence into a vibrant, blessed future together. Ludmilla paints the early days with secrecy and butterflies, then shows how realizing the bond is more than just attraction gives the couple courage to dream big. Calling her partner “amor” becomes the singer’s personal gateway to paradise, turning fear into confidence and adding bright new colors to life.

As the lyrics unfold, we watch the pair decorate their own roof, reminisce when their special song plays, and even picture welcoming a baby—proof that their love is destined to “multiply.” There is a strong sense of gratitude, too, as Ludmilla credits God for endorsing their union. The result is an upbeat celebration of love’s power to evolve, expand, and feel downright heavenly whenever you say your sweetheart’s name.

“Sou Má” explodes with pure swagger and unapologetic power. Ludmilla joins forces with twin rappers Tasha & Tracie to announce, in no uncertain terms, that copying their style, talent, or success is nearly impossible. The hook “Sou má” literally means “I’m bad,” yet here “bad” equals fierce, untouchable, and brilliant. Over rattling beats they brag about stacking money, turning heads with their beauty, and silencing online haters who only talk but never act. Every line drips with confidence and celebrates Black Brazilian women who dominate any space they step into.

The trio flips traditional gender roles by owning their sexuality, calling the shots in the streets, and treating fortune as their playground. They are the “hunters of cash,” the solution and the problem, goddesses whose very existence challenges anyone who doubts them. “Sou Má” is an anthem that tells learners: if you have talent, know your worth, flaunt it, and let the world adjust to your shine.

“Sim Ou Não” is a playful tug-of-war between heart and mind. Ludmilla and Veigh trade verses as two people who are wildly attracted to each other yet fed up with the mixed signals that keep the romance in limbo. One moment they are day-dreaming about massages and samba nights; the next they are scolding, “para de brincar com o meu coração” (stop playing with my heart). All that back-and-forth—yes or no, stay or go—captures the roller-coaster feeling of wanting someone who cannot make up their mind.

Under the swaggering beat, the lyrics reveal vulnerability. Ludmilla’s narrator admits she keeps falling for a charming façade, while Veigh confesses he ditched a calm life just to chase her attention. Together they show how easy it is to get trapped between desire and self-respect, and how exhausting it feels when love is stuck on “pause.” The song’s infectious groove makes the dilemma fun to dance to, but its message is crystal clear: if you want my heart, choose—sim ou não?

Ludmilla turns up the heat in “Bom” (which means “Good” in Portuguese), painting a vivid picture of a sultry night that bubbles with anticipation. Over a hypnotic beat, the Brazilian star toasts with a taça de Chandon (a glass of sparkling wine), slips beneath a warm duvet, and playfully invites her partner to wipe off her lipstick. Every repeated “bom, bom, bom” acts like a heartbeat, reminding us that each teasing touch and giggle feels irresistibly good.

Beyond the flirtation, the song celebrates confidence and mutual pleasure. Ludmilla tells her lover to relaxa (relax) because everything will unfold naturally. She owns her desires, promising to “provoke” first and “devour” later, making it clear that passion is a shared adventure. “Bom” is therefore more than a steamy encounter - it is an anthem of empowered sensuality, where both partners savor the moment, sip by sip and kiss by kiss.

“Saudade” is a unique Portuguese word for the heart-pinch you feel when you miss someone so much that memories become almost tangible. In “Saudade Da Gente,” Ludmilla and Caio Luccas turn that feeling into a rhythmic confession: time keeps ticking, but the emotion refuses to budge. The lovers are split by long kilometers and a flickering phone screen that can never replace real hugs, real laughs, real chaos.

As they trade verses, the pair paints a relationship that is both sweet and messy. One moment they dream of waking up to each other’s voice, the next they are tossing clothes and playful insults across the room. Despite the drama, every lyric circles back to the same truth—distance may test them, but the craving to be together is stronger than any argument. The song taps into the universal tug-of-war between modern separation and timeless love, all wrapped in an infectious Brazilian groove that makes longing sound surprisingly joyful.

Feel the heat of a Rio de Janeiro summer in Maliciosa. Ludmilla spots a dazzling woman gliding through a January day, and everything else melts away: the drumbeats fade, the samba circle blurs, and even the crowd disappears. One electrifying kiss flips samba into blues and turns a simple street scene into a cinematic moment. The singer is swept up by this maliciosa — a playful, sexy, beach-lover who moves with wild, carefree confidence.

The song is a love-at-first-sight carnival. Ludmilla invites the woman to become her whole celebration, “my Recife Carnival” and “the storyline of my samba school,” blending the energy of two iconic Brazilian fests. Between cold chopes, spontaneous dance steps, and a car radio playing Marília Mendonça, the track paints a postcard of modern Brazil where romance, music, and city pride collide. Ultimately, Maliciosa celebrates irresistible attraction and the joyful chaos of Brazilian culture, all in one sun-soaked groove.

Ludmilla’s mash-up Diz Pra Mim/Preciso Desabafar is a roller-coaster of Brazilian beats that drops you straight into the eye of a love storm. In the Diz Pra Mim segment, passion hits like a sudden summer gale: the singer remembers a night so sizzling that her mind still spins and her body still burns just picturing it. Between steamy memories she pleads for reassurance, begging her partner to confirm that their whirlwind encounter left them just as breathless and happy as it left her.

The mood shifts as Preciso Desabafar opens a new chapter, trading seductive whispers for an emotional heart-to-heart between friends. Now we meet someone shattered after his lover vanished without explanation, and he needs to vent. His buddy offers hopeful words, showing that heartbreak—like passion—is easier to survive when you speak your feelings aloud. Together, the two halves reveal love’s full spectrum: burning desire, crushing absence, and the healing power of honest conversation, making this song an irresistible soundtrack for anyone who has ever fallen hard, been hurt, and leaned on a friend to keep dancing.

Picture a whirlwind romance where the charm is sky-high but the commitment is rock-bottom. In “Você Não Sabe O Que É Amor” (“You Don’t Know What Love Is”), Ludmilla vents her frustration at a partner who is a pro at seduction yet a complete amateur when it comes to real love. She lists the evidence with playful sarcasm: love letters dumped in the trash, a once-treasured Wiz Khalifa shirt tossed aside, and a heart that keeps falling for the same slick tricks. Every time she tries to move on, the phone rings and the cycle of sweet talk and broken promises starts all over again.

Behind the catchy beat lies a bold message of self-respect. Ludmilla calls out the master manipulator, warning that staying would only lead to more hurt and wasted time. Her repeated chorus — “Você não sabe o que é amor” — is part resignation, part empowerment, reminding listeners that knowing when to walk away is its own kind of victory. The song turns heartache into an anthem, urging anyone caught in a similar loop to dance, sing, and finally shut the door on someone who simply doesn’t understand love.

Se Não Chorar Com Pagode is Ludmilla’s playful ultimatum to a fading lover. She sits them down for a heart-to-heart and proposes a simple test: if the sparks still fly when classic pagode songs play, there is hope; if not, their romance has already flat-lined. From Belo singing “Perfume” to timeless tracks by Sorriso Maroto, electrifying shows by Thiaguinho, and the soulful vocals of Péricles, Vitinho, and the legendary Alcione, she lines up Brazil’s pagode greats as emotional checkpoints. Each artist represents a memory, a goosebump, a tear waiting to fall.

The message is clear and cheeky: true love feels the rhythm. If these iconic melodies no longer make the heart race or the eyes mist, then the relationship is beyond repair. Ludmilla wraps this bittersweet truth in lively, upbeat pagode flavor, turning a breakup warning into a celebration of Brazilian music’s power to measure passion itself.

1 % turns a dying phone battery into a last-chance love letter.

With only a sliver of charge left, the singer rushes to confess everything their pride has been hiding. Since the partner walked out, every corner of the house, from the cold duvet to the lingering scent in the air, reminds them of what is missing. A beer-fueled call brings temporary courage, yet the smile on their face is fake because “te perder foi a maior que eu fiz”—losing you was my biggest mistake.

Rather than waste that final 1 percent, the narrator gives 100 percent honesty:

• I still love you.
• I still need you.
• Open Waze, type “amor da vida,” and drive back home.

Blending Ludmilla’s soulful pagode-pop with Vitinho’s smooth vocals, the song captures modern heartbreak in vivid detail—low battery warnings, GPS apps, and a blanket that refuses to warm anyone else. It is a bittersweet plea wrapped in rhythm and hope, urging the lost love to come back before both the phone and the relationship power down for good.

“Verdinha” is Ludmilla’s cheeky anthem about freedom, hustle, and a certain little green plant. The narrator proudly reveals that she has grown a marijuana sprout in her own backyard and sells “a gram of the green” for just one real, turning a playful wink into a small-scale business plan. While her mother, father, and grandmother all ask what kind of plant it is, she refuses to hide or apologize. The song mixes humor with empowerment, showing a woman who balances responsibilities at home and school while still claiming the right to let loose and enjoy life.

Beyond the catchy chorus, Ludmilla fires back at nosy neighbors and society’s moral masks. She calls herself “crazy but dedicated,” ready to confront hypocrisy with a metaphorical “bang, bang.” The buzz from her verdinha becomes a symbol of personal liberation, daring listeners to question outdated judgments. In just a few breezy verses, the track celebrates self-reliance, resilience, and the unapologetic joy of doing things your own way.

Sintomas de Prazer captures the magnetic pull of a relationship fueled by raw chemistry. Ludmilla sings from the perspective of a confident lover who knows exactly how irresistible she is. Her partner keeps trying to pull away, yet always returns home 'cheia de sintomas de prazer' - filled with the unmistakable after-effects of their passionate encounters. Hair-pulling, pillow-gripping, marathon dancing; every detail paints a picture of a night so intense it leaves a physical and emotional imprint.

Behind the steamy imagery is a playful message about addiction to affection. The chorus asks 'pra que ficar dando show?' - why put on an act when both are already hooked? Ludmilla flips the script, celebrating female desire and control while inviting listeners to move along to the rhythm of temptation. It's a bold, sensual reminder that sometimes pleasure speaks louder than words.

In "Insônia" Ludmilla and Marília Mendonça call out an ex who is partying hard but still wide awake at night. The narrator sees this person wasting money, wearing pride like a fancy coat and pretending to be a pop star, yet nothing silences the late-night saudade – that uniquely Brazilian word for deep longing. While the streets witness drunken scenes, the real drama happens under the covers where the ex reaches out in the dark and realizes the bed is empty. That shock of absence keeps the insomnia alive.

The song is both playful and cautionary. It celebrates self-confidence with catchy "iê-iês," yet reminds listeners that pride can blind us to obvious "signs" and send life spinning in circles. Instead of running from heartbreak, the lyrics suggest facing feelings head-on; otherwise, you may end up awake at 3 a.m., haunted by memories money and nightlife cannot cure.

“Make Love” throws you straight into a neon-lit tug of war where desire always wins. Ludmilla sings as someone hopelessly captivated by a fearless partner who knows the effect she has. Every time this magnetic woman shows up, the narrator’s resolve crumbles: she “lives in my mind,” flips power dynamics at will, and turns late-night cravings into undeniable chemistry. The lyrics paint lust-charged snapshots— whispered “I love you,” post-passion confessions, and a confession of weakness that feels as addictive as it is dangerous.

Yet behind the steamy chorus lies a plea for stability. Friends warn, feelings hurt, but the solution offered is simple: “If you’re staying, stay without fighting… let’s make love.” The song becomes a playful ultimatum that swaps drama for intimacy, suggesting that the best way to settle arguments is under the sheets. Wrapped in catchy hooks and bold Brazilian swagger, “Make Love” celebrates physical connection while hinting at the vulnerability of anyone caught in love’s thrilling loop.

Lud Session #4 throws us straight into a heat-soaked night where Ludmilla and IZA swap daring confessions about irresistible attraction. The lyrics paint vivid snapshots: phones switched off, high heels kicked aside, sheets trembling to the rhythm of funk and R&B. It is an unapologetic celebration of desire, where both artists call the shots, savoring every stolen kiss and late-night whisper while refusing to sacrifice their independence.

Beneath the sensual surface, the song also plays with contrast: freedom versus longing, zero-commitment fun versus the surprise of wanting “mais.” The word saudade pops up like a heartbeat, reminding us that even the most carefree fling can leave a lingering ache. In the end, Lud Session #4 feels like an anthem for anyone who loves hard, lives in the moment, and still keeps their own rules firmly in place.

Late-night calls, mixed signals and bold realness – that is the world of “Deixa De Onda”. Ludmilla joins forces with Dennis and Xamã to paint a vivid picture of an ex who dials in at 3 a.m. claiming “I love you.” The reply? A confident eye-roll. The narrator remembers all the times their partner messed up, and they are no longer fooled by sweet talk that only appears when desire hits. The phrase “Amava nenhuma” (“You never loved me”) becomes the anthem of self-respect, clapping back at empty declarations with sharp wit and a catchy hook.

Behind the playful funk beat lies a message of empowerment: know your worth, set boundaries and do not let anyone string you along for convenience. The song flips late-night nostalgia into a fearless groove, celebrating independence while serving dance-floor energy. Listed contacts, “DM” requests and flirty emojis are all dismissed with swagger, making “Deixa De Onda” a soundtrack for anyone ready to say “Stop the act – I am moving on.”

Maldavona is Ludmilla’s sunny, sensual invitation to drop everything and escape with her favorite partner in crime. Right from the first lines, the Brazilian superstar calls this woman her “minha de fé”—her ride-or-die—promising marriage and a blissful honeymoon in the crystal-blue paradise of the Maldives. The chorus paints that dreamy postcard while the verses crank up the temperature: Ludmilla imagines DJ-ing all night, trading playful commands on the dance floor, and keeping the energy high even when the two lovers need a quick breather.

Underneath the flirty lyrics and club-ready beat lies a message of confident female desire and total devotion. Ludmilla celebrates a relationship where pleasure, fun, and mutual trust rule the night, turning every moment into a party that never really ends. Whether you focus on the exotic getaway, the steamy role-playing, or the infectious rhythm, Maldavona is all about living loudly, loving boldly, and dancing until the sun comes up.

"Garota Nota 100" is Ludmilla’s heartfelt confession of saudade—that uniquely Brazilian mix of longing, nostalgia, and hope. Over an infectious, feel-good beat, the singer looks back on a love she once kept "on the shelf" and now realizes was priceless. She remembers the first kiss that stole her heart, the sincere affection, the dazzling smile, and rates this unforgettable girl a perfect “100 out of 10.”

The chorus repeats like a diary entry she cannot erase: even after time has passed, no one compares, and she still dreams the girl will return. The track blends upbeat funk with tender lyrics, turning a personal regret into a universal anthem for anyone who has ever let the right person slip away and still keeps the door— and the dance floor—open for a second chance.

5 Contra 1 is Ludmilla’s unapologetic anthem of confidence, independence, and playful provocation. Throughout the lyrics, the Brazilian superstar flaunts her style, wealth, and self-assured attitude: she is “preta, chata, cara e arrumada” (a gorgeous, high-maintenance Black woman) who turns heads wherever she goes. Ludmilla celebrates owning her money, her sexuality, and her cabaret of lovers, reminding haters that they copy her every move while pretending to dislike her. When she sings the cheeky hook “cinco contra um” (literally “five against one,” Brazilian slang for a man left to please himself), she teases anyone who fails to live up to her standards and ends up pining over her Instagram photos.

Beneath the swagger lies a message of female empowerment and Black pride. Ludmilla draws clear boundaries: she won’t tolerate disrespect, she decides when and with whom she shares her affection, and she remains in full control of her narrative. The result is a bold celebration of self-love that encourages listeners to embrace their uniqueness, stay stylish, and never settle for less than they deserve.

Rainha Da Favela is Ludmilla’s loud and proud coronation anthem. Over a booming funk beat she struts through the alleys of the favela declaring herself the undisputed queen, inviting every eye to “foca no meu bumbum”—focus on her groove, her hustle and her confidence. The repeated line “aqui é só trabalho lindo” (here it is only beautiful work) shows that her sensuality comes packaged with relentless grind; she “kills” the competition while laughing, turning every head with her irresistible swagger.

At its heart the song mixes body-positivity, female empowerment and favela pride. Ludmilla flips the gaze onto herself, celebrating her curves and her roots while warning any doubters that they will be begging to come back for more. It is a fierce, playful reminder that power can rise from the narrowest streets, and that a true queen rules with both rhythm and self-belief.

Solta A Batida is Ludmilla’s unapologetic invitation to the dance floor. From the very first line, she orders the DJ to “release the beat” and announces her arrival with swagger. The verses paint a vivid club scene: flashing lights, heavy bass, and Ludmilla taking center stage while her hips move “up, down, bouncing, shaking.” The catchy refrain “Eu vou sentar… mas você só pode olhar” sets a playful rule—she will dance freely, but the crowd must keep their hands to themselves.

Beneath the party vibe lies a message of confidence and control. Ludmilla owns her body, her moves, and the atmosphere, reminding everyone that she is “dessas que joga e não para” (the type who plays and never stops). She flirts, teases, and commands attention, yet she also sets clear boundaries, turning the spotlight on female empowerment and self-expression. In short, the song celebrates letting loose, having fun, and claiming your space—all while the beat keeps pumping.

Hands off my boo! That is the cheeky warning Ludmilla shouts over DJ Will 22’s dance-floor beat in “Não Encosta.” The Brazilian star lets everyone know that she could lose her money, her reputation, even her cool, and still keep smiling—as long as nobody lays a finger on her boyfriend. The hook repeats like a catchy mantra, turning her protective vibe into a sing-along that sticks in your head long after the bass fades.

Behind the playful tone lies a clear message about personal boundaries. Ludmilla is carefree, riding her own wave, yet she draws one bright line that no gossip or envy can cross: her relationship. The song mixes humor, confidence, and the irresistible swing of funk carioca, inviting listeners to dance while remembering that feeling secure enough to say “don’t touch” can be its own kind of empowerment.

Flash is Ludmilla’s vibrant anthem of self-confidence and personal freedom. Over an irresistible beat, the Brazilian star celebrates the joy of feeling leve (light) and em paz (at peace) while brushing off negativity. She tells envy to take a back seat because the brighter the jealousy, the bigger her glow — she literally “shines brighter than a flash.” The song’s hook turns the act of striking a pose for the camera into a symbol of owning the moment and loving the skin you’re in.

At the same time, Ludmilla lays down clear boundaries: she only wants people who are a true “match,” and anyone else can simply “desaparece” (disappear). The lyrics champion autonomy over body and desire, highlighting her right to choose who warms her heart. Packed with bold humor, catchy slang, and a fierce beat, “Flash” is a feel-good reminder that confidence is the best filter — and that life’s too short not to shine for every snapshot.