Learn Spanish With Bad Bunny with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Get your hips ready because Baile Inolvidable turns heartbreak into a sizzling salsa party. Bad Bunny, the Puerto Rican superstar, looks back on a love he thought would last forever. Under blazing horns and tropical percussion, he remembers the partner who taught him how to love and how to dance, picturing the two of them growing old side by side. Instead, the romance fades, leaving him alone at sunset, guilt-ridden yet still moving to the music.
The chorus, pulsing with “No, no te puedo olvidar,” shows how every conga hit drags him back to her memory. Life, he reminds us, is a short-lived fiesta, so we should pour our hearts into every embrace while the song plays. Their once-in-a-lifetime dance becomes a symbol of passion: intense, unforgettable, and impossible to replace. Even surrounded by new faces, he knows only one partner truly matched his rhythm. The result is a bittersweet celebration that urges us to keep dancing, even when love leaves an ache in our chest.
Imagine a brief Caribbean getaway in someone’s heart. In “TURiSTA,” Bad Bunny compares a short-lived romance to a vacation visit: the other person was only a tourist who snapped pretty memories, danced under glowing sunsets, and enjoyed the best version of him. The catchy bolero groove feels warm and relaxed, yet the lyrics reveal that, behind the souvenirs and smiles, the host’s heart has been hurting for mucho tiempo.
The song’s bittersweet core is about appearance versus reality. While the couple “la pasamos bien,” the narrator hid old wounds that were never the tourist’s job to heal. He accepts the relationship’s temporary nature—“si se da, pues se da, y si no, pues también”—and chooses to savor the night anyway. With this mix of romance, resignation, and self-protection, Bad Bunny reminds listeners that even the most beautiful trips can leave unseen stories behind, and that sometimes enjoying the moment is the best passport we have.
In "Tití Me Preguntó," Bad Bunny turns a lighthearted family interrogation into a reggaeton confession booth. His mischievous aunt (tití means auntie in Caribbean Spanish) keeps asking how many girlfriends he has, and Benito answers with playful bravado: "Hoy tengo una, mañana otra" – today I have one, tomorrow another. The lyrics leap from a roll-call of names to VIP selfies, painting the portrait of a globetrotting Romeo who always has a new date but never a wedding ring.
Beneath the catchy beat and cheeky humor hides a mix of swagger and vulnerability. Bad Bunny boasts about endless options, yet he admits he can’t trust anyone, not even himself, and fears breaking hearts as easily as he collects them. The push and pull between tití’s old-school advice and his own modern hookup habits mirrors the clash between traditional values and contemporary freedom. By the final verse he half-jokes about wanting to change but not knowing how, leaving listeners dancing while pondering the cost of limitless choice.
DtMF invites us to roll down the windows and feel the warm Puerto Rican breeze. Over a smooth reggaetón beat, Bad Bunny watches otro sunset bonito in San Juan and lets nostalgia flood in. He misses the everyday details that people only realize are special after they leave: late-night hangouts, spontaneous photos that were never taken, kisses that could have lasted longer. The song flips between sweet memories and the present moment, where he is surrounded by lifelong friends, domino games with his grandpa, and the irresistible pull of perreo, salsa, bomba, and plena.
Under the party lights, Bad Bunny slips honest reflections between jokes and shout-outs. Regret, gratitude, and celebration all blend together. He raises a glass to the crew that keeps him grounded, hopes loved ones never have to move away, and reminds us to capture the magic of right now—before the night, the city, or a relationship becomes just another memory on our phones. The result is a heartfelt anthem that feels like a group selfie at 3 a.m.: messy, joyful, and unforgettable.
"LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAi" opens like a tropical daydream: foamy waves that fizz like champagne, green mountains brushing the clouds, and a smiling girl who hides her tears. Bad Bunny splashes these vibrant images over an infectious reggaeton rhythm, inviting us to dance while he paints Puerto Rico’s natural beauty and everyday joy. It feels fun and carefree on the surface, yet every reference to the sea, the river, and the hillside whispers that they are treasures worth protecting.
Listen closer and the party turns into a protest. The lyrics mourn neighbors forced to leave, condemn corrupt politicians, and warn that outside interests want to snatch the island’s land just as happened in Hawaiʻi. By urging listeners to “hold on to the flag” and never forget the traditional lelolai chant, Bad Bunny rallies Puerto Ricans to defend their culture, their barrios, and their roots. The song is both a celebration of island pride and a heartfelt plea: safeguard your home so its next verse is sung in joy, not nostalgia.
Bad Bunny’s “VOY A LLeVARTE PA PR” is a high-energy invitation to experience the wild, carefree nightlife of Puerto Rico, the cradle of reggaeton. The narrator meets a woman in Miami and boldly promises to fly her (and her friend) to the island so she can see cómo es que se perrea—how real reggaeton dancing is done. Throughout the song he brags about being single, flush with cash, and ready to party from dusk till dawn. The message is clear: forget Tinder, forget commitment, just lose yourself in the hypnotic rhythm, neon-lit clubs, hookah smoke, and sunrise exits from the disco.
Beyond the flirtation, the track is a love letter to Puerto Rican culture. Slang like janguear (to hang out) and algarete (going wild) paints a picture of a place where the dance floor is sacred and freedom rules the night. Bad Bunny proudly stakes his claim: “Aquí nací yo y el reggaetón,” reminding listeners that both he and the genre were born on this island. In short, the song is a sonic passport to an unforgettable weekend where the only rule is to dance hard and live in the moment.
Bad Bunny’s “Efecto” is a sultry reggaeton anthem about the intoxicating rush of desire. The Puerto Rican superstar compares his lover to a powerful drug: every glance makes him sweat, every touch sends him soaring, and the chaos of life suddenly feels perfect when they are together. He marvels at how quickly her presence changes his reality, turning a “jodido” world into a euphoric escape.
Beyond the catchy beat, the lyrics paint a vivid night of passion and unapologetic confidence. Bad Bunny celebrates the freedom of giving in to temptation, reveling in the sensory overload of music, movement, and chemistry on the dance floor. “Efecto” captures that electric moment when attraction takes over completely, leaving reason at the door and letting pleasure set the rhythm.
Bad Bunny’s “Estamos Bien” is a loud celebration of resilience and gratitude. The Puerto Rican superstar looks around at his friends, his bank account, and his own spirit and proudly declares, “We’re good!” Even when gossip swirls or the electricity goes out back home, he focuses on health, family blessings, and the simple fact that life only happens once. The lyrics paint scenes of sudden wealth—raining money, private flights, shimmering jewelry—yet the core message is emotional wealth: being content and confident no matter what.
The song’s vibe is pure uplift. Bad Bunny treats every morning like a victory lap, shrugging off haters with a playful “que se joda.” He reminds listeners that dreams are reachable if you “le metes”—if you put in the effort. Whether you have stacks of hundred-dollar bills or just good vibes and good company, the verdict is the same: “Estamos bien.” It is a musical pep talk that fuses reggaeton energy with a universal mantra of positivity, making you want to shout along and believe it too.
Bad Bunny’s “Enséñame A Bailar” drops you straight onto a Caribbean dancefloor at 3 a.m. The Puerto Rican superstar plays the role of a tipsy admirer who admits he doesn’t know the steps, yet he is completely hypnotized by his partner’s moves. Over a smooth reggaeton beat, he celebrates the instant chemistry between “tú y yo” while promising fun without limits: he will follow her lead, pay for any broken glasses, and keep the party alive until sunrise.
More than a simple request to learn how to dance, the song is a flirtatious anthem about living in the moment. References to Quisqueya (the Dominican Republic) and moonlit beaches paint a tropical backdrop, while repeated lines like “Tú y yo solitos y el sol” picture a private world where only the two of them and the dawn exist. It is carefree, sensual, and irresistibly catchy, inviting listeners to let loose, forget the rules, and move their hips until the first light of day.
EoO is Bad Bunny’s latest invitation to the electric world of Puerto Rican nightlife. The moment ella steps into the club, the track erupts in pounding beats, gun-slinging metaphors, and nonstop tra-tra chants that mirror the thrusting rhythm of perreo (reggaeton’s signature hip-shaking dance). Over booming drums, Bunny boasts about steamy encounters, daring the girl to drop hasta abajo (all the way down) while he showers her with extravagant promises and playful, unfiltered desire.
Beneath the flirtation lies a proud shout-out to the genre’s roots. Bad Bunny name-checks the 1990s, the housing projects, and super-producer Tainy to remind listeners that this raw, sweaty energy was born on the island’s streets long before it ruled global charts. In short, “EoO” is both a celebration of sensual freedom and a love letter to Puerto Rico’s reggaeton culture—a track meant to crank up, dance low, and feel the pulse of the Caribbean in every beat.
Bad Bunny’s “NUEVAYoL” is a sun-soaked postcard from a Puerto Rican superstar spending the summer in New York City. He paints the scene with fireworks on the Fourth of July, late-night cruises through the Bronx and Washington Heights, and the electric hum of reggaeton echoing off the skyscrapers. The chorus promises that anyone looking for charm and excitement only needs “un verano en Nueva York,” capturing the magnetic pull the city has long held for the Latino community. References to salsa legend Willie Colón, painter Frida Kahlo, and big-league baseball teams tie Puerto Rican pride to the cultural melting pot of NYC, showing how the island’s rhythm and the city’s hustle blend into one unstoppable vibe.
The verses double as a victory lap. Bad Bunny compares his record sales to art masterpieces, jokes about being the new “king of pop” while keeping reggaeton at the core, and flexes with witty shout-outs to iconic rappers like Big Pun and sports stars like Juan Soto. Amid the bravado, party invites, and flirtatious lines, the message is clear: Latin music now rules the global stage, and New York is its summertime capital. “NUEVAYoL” is both a celebration and a declaration, urging listeners to dance, explore, and feel the island-to-city connection in every beat.
Bad Bunny’s “Alambre Púa” is a fiery love-and-lust anthem where the Puerto Rican superstar celebrates an irresistible woman who makes his world spin. He tells her that the location is irrelevant because her presence alone gets him “high without smoking.” Throughout the song he showers her with compliments: she shines brighter than any other girl, turns his car into a luxury ride, and keeps his heart “tied up with barbed wire” (alambre púa) because her spell is unbreakable. The artist mixes Spanish and English slang to paint a picture of passionate nights, playful teasing, and a desire to replay every steamy moment he forgot to record.
At its core, the track blends romance and sensuality with Bad Bunny’s signature confidence. He regrets not capturing their last encounter, treasures her private photos, and aches to hear her call him “papi” again. Yet the vibe stays upbeat: he plans to find her, kiss the spot by her beauty mark, and let the party continue. “Alambre Púa” is all about that magnetic connection that feels dangerous, addictive, and impossible to replace—set to a hypnotic reggaeton beat that makes listeners move just as much as it makes them fantasize.
Bad Bunny’s “BOKeTE” is a bittersweet postcard from Puerto Rico, written at sunset by the river. Over a smooth bachata groove, he flips through memories of a love that felt endless summer but suddenly turned to winter. He paints vivid island scenes (the Río, Maya, Arecibo, the playita) then contrasts them with the chill of heartbreak, calling his ex a boquete (a pothole) he now swerves to avoid. The song is playful yet raw: he jokes about having fallen in love 516 times, but he still admits the sting of losing “lo más real” he ever had.
At its core, the track is a lesson in self-worth and moving on. Bad Bunny accepts that both lovers may suffer, yet he hopes she feels the regret, not him. He reminds her that beauty fades and truth matters, while he chooses to keep living, dancing, and—if fate allows—falling in love again. “BOKeTE” turns heartbreak into a catchy mantra: keep it honest, keep it moving, and never forget your own sunshine, even when the Caribbean feels cold.
VeLDÁ is a swagger-packed reggaeton track that turns a simple social-media follow into a full-blown flirt fest. Bad Bunny, Omar Courtz and Dei V trace the lightning-quick steps of modern attraction: a follow, a like, an invitation to the coveted Close Friends, then straight into the DMs. Each playful lyric piles on the heat as the artists brag about flashy cars, late-night pull-ups and the irresistible pull of a perfectly posed photo. The beat throbs like a nightclub dance floor, matching the rush of notifications that spark this digital romance.
At its core the song asks, “Vamos a ver si es verdad” – “Let’s see if it’s real.” The trio challenge their crush to prove that the online chemistry can survive the jump to real life, promising drinks, dancing and a dose of unapologetic sensuality. Lines about “activating,” “bellaqueando” and “tequila y limón” paint a picture of carefree nights where confidence is currency and desire is met head-on. VeLDÁ is a playful anthem for anyone who has ever turned a swipe or a like into a wild night out, wrapped in the unmistakable swagger of Puerto Rican reggaeton.
Yonaguni is Bad Bunny’s bittersweet late-night confession wrapped in a smooth reggaeton groove. After one drink too many, the Puerto Rican superstar admits he still cannot erase an ex from his mind: her name, face, laugh, and hair crash the party in his thoughts. Determined to see her again, he boasts that he would hop on a plane all the way to Yonaguni—a tiny Japanese island at the edge of the Pacific—just for the chance to be near her. Along the way he mixes swagger with sincerity, promising luxury gifts, serenades, and even tattoos to prove his devotion.
Beneath the playful bravado sits real vulnerability. He checks her social media, prays for a New Year’s kiss, and even slips into Japanese to show how far his longing travels. By blending languages and cultures, the song mirrors Bad Bunny’s own global reach while turning heartache into an irresistible dance-floor anthem. It captures those sleepless nights when love feels both thrilling and painfully out of reach, making listeners sway, smile, and maybe text that one person they still miss.
Después de la Playa is Bad Bunny’s sun-soaked invitation to keep the party rolling once daylight fades. Set to an electrifying mix of merengue horns and reggaetón beats, the Puerto Rican superstar flirts boldly, promising to dry off a beach companion only to “get wet again” back in his bed. Towels become props, surfboards turn into playful innuendos, and every wave of the ocean mirrors the rising heat of their chemistry.
At its core, the song is a carefree anthem about squeezing every last drop of fun from a steamy tropical night: rum-fueled dancing, spontaneous hookups, and a live-in-the-moment attitude where the only real plan is deciding “para dónde vamos” next. It celebrates Caribbean culture, unapologetic desire, and the thrill of turning beach vibes into an unforgettable, rhythm-charged after-party that stretches far past the shoreline.
**“EL CLúB” drops you into a packed reggaetón rave at 2 a.m., where lights flash, smoke swirls, and Bad Bunny seems to have everything a superstar could want: cheering friends, eager admirers, hookah, pills, and a blunt. Yet the harder the beat pumps, the louder an old question echoes in his mind: What is my ex doing right now? The track balances that party-ready energy with a confessional heartache, showing how easy it is to look like you are living your best life while secretly feeling empty inside.
Through sharp, conversational lyrics he checks the calendar of his memories—2019, 2020, 2022—realizing that each year has taken him farther from the happiness he once shared. The chorus circles back again and again to his drunken curiosity about his ex, underscoring the idea that no amount of nightclub noise can drown out unresolved feelings. “EL CLúB” is both a celebration of the nightlife scene in Puerto Rico and a vulnerable snapshot of modern heartbreak, reminding listeners that even amid flashing strobes and booming speakers, love’s aftershocks can hit the hardest.
Amorfoda is Bad Bunny’s raw, piano-driven breakup anthem that swaps party vibes for pure heartbreak. From the opening line, the Puerto Rican superstar slams the door on romance: “No quiero que más nadie me hable de amor” (I don’t want anyone else to talk to me about love). What follows is a torrent of frustration, regret, and wounded pride as he lists every kiss, promise, and late-night drink that now feels like wasted time. Instead of hiding behind reggaeton’s usual swagger, he lets the bitterness spill out, confessing that he actually hates his ex today and even curses the day she was born.
Underneath the fiery insults lies a vulnerable question: Does real love even exist? Bad Bunny paints the picture of someone pacing the streets alone, asking God why good intentions were repaid with pain. The song captures that intense moment right after a breakup when anger and sadness mix together, making you wish you could rewrite the ending or erase the person from your thoughts entirely. “Amorfoda” (a play on “amor” and a Spanish curse word) is a dramatic, no-filter reminder that heartbreak can feel like war—but it also shows why Bad Bunny connects so deeply with listeners who have ever sworn off love, even if just for a night.
Bad Bunny’s “El Apagón” is a vibrant love-letter and a loud protest rolled into one. Over a contagious reggaeton beat, he shouts out hometown heroes, legendary musicians and basketball champs while bragging that “Puerto Rico está bien cabrón” – Puerto Rico is freaking amazing. The chorus praises the island’s beaches, sun and wild nightlife, yet the title (The Blackout) hints at the darker reality: constant power outages, gentrification and outside investors pushing locals out. By repeating “¡Que se vayan ellos!” (Let them leave), Bad Bunny flips the script and defends the right of Puerto Ricans to stay on their own land and keep their culture alive.
The track jumps from playful lines like “me gusta la chocha de Puerto Rico” to sharp social commentary, mirroring the island’s mix of joy and frustration. It celebrates reggaeton’s birthplace, taíno sunshine and unbreakable community spirit while calling out those who “want to ride the wave” without truly understanding its roots. In short, “El Apagón” is both a party anthem and a rallying cry: dance, sing, light up a blunt in the bleachers – but never forget who the island belongs to and why its people keep fighting to protect it.
In “KETU TeCRÉ,” Bad Bunny turns a night at the club into a telenovela of hurt pride and neon-lit jealousy. The narrator talks straight to an ex-lover who, not long ago, was wrapped up in a fiery romance with him. Now she is out every weekend, dancing, posting flashy stories, and living her best life in designer fits. He cannot understand how the woman he once “taught the ropes” could flip the script so quickly. The track captures that bittersweet mix of anger, confusion, and heartache that hits when someone you once had on lock starts shining on their own.
Beyond the personal drama, Bad Bunny paints a picture of modern nightlife culture in Puerto Rico: matcha lattes by day, tequila shots by night, Instagram stories on loop, and a soundtrack of classic reggaeton throwbacks. The song’s core message is the clash between possessiveness and freedom—how one partner’s need to control meets the other’s desire to explore. It is a lively, beat-driven reminder that people grow, glow up, and sometimes grow apart, no matter who “taught” them how to party.
Get ready to step back into a single, electrifying night where time seemed to stop. In La Noche de Anoche, Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny teams up with Spain’s flamenco-pop queen Rosalía to revisit a feverish encounter that left their bodies blazing yet their hearts shivering. They trade verses like memories, confessing that what happened “yo encima de ti, tú encima de mí” was so intense it feels almost supernatural—an experience neither of them can fully explain nor erase.
Beneath the steamy imagery lies a bittersweet twist: both singers know the fling will probably never repeat, and that realization hurts more than they expected. The song captures that magnetic mix of desire and regret, heat and cold, fantasy and reality. It’s a rhythmic reminder that some nights tattoo themselves on our minds forever, even if the sunrise brings distance, doubt, and a chill that no reggaeton beat can completely warm.
“Ojitos Lindos” paints the thrill of stumbling into a love so pure that it feels like hitting the accelerator with no brakes. Bad Bunny and Bomba Estéreo weave a tropical daydream where one hypnotic gaze — “esos ojitos lindos” — is enough to reboot the heart. The singer admits he had stopped holding hands and sending sweet messages, yet a chance collision with this special someone resets everything. Time melts away, mistakes stop being sins, and even a chaotic ride feels perfect as long as they are side by side.
Beyond its flirtatious vibe, the song celebrates living in the now. It swaps flashy status symbols for sunflowers, seashell hunts, and dancing through “doscientas canciones.” Each look becomes a tiny sunrise, each kiss a brand-new life. “Ojitos Lindos” is ultimately a reminder that love can be simple, spontaneous, and wonderfully imperfect — all it takes is two hearts, a tropical beat, and those pretty little eyes.
In “Dákiti,” Bad Bunny and Jhay Cortez invite us into a secret world where passion, luxury, and late-night adventure mix with the hypnotic pulse of reggaeton. The narrators speak directly to a confident, free-spirited woman, promising to take her wherever she hasn’t gone yet—from elite shopping sprees in Sephora and Louis Vuitton to wild after-parties full of wine and weed. Their chemistry is electric and unapologetic; they keep things private, brushing off any gossip with the swagger of someone who knows the night is theirs.
Beyond the sensual bravado, the song celebrates mutual freedom and modern romance on their own terms. She is independent, studying to be a doctor, yet still loves the thrill of motorcycles and nightlife. He respects that strength, offering partnership rather than possession while pledging constant presence—“veinticuatro horas.” With its catchy hook and shimmering production, “Dákiti” becomes an anthem for living boldly in love, shielding intimate moments from prying eyes, and dancing under Caribbean stars with no regrets.