Learn Spanish With Luck Ra with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Feel the pulse of Córdoba's cuarteto as Luck Ra joins forces with the legendary romantic Chayanne. Behind the lively accordion and bouncing bass, the lyrics paint the picture of someone who has spun a thousand stories just to stay close to the person he loves. Now that the relationship has collapsed, he admits the truth: life without that love is unbearable.
The beauty of the track lies in its mix of party energy with raw vulnerability. The narrator confesses his mistakes, opens the doors of his heart and promises that he is not the same person he was yesterday. Each day apart stretches into un siglo sin ti, a century without you, showing how time crawls when the one you love is gone. In the end, the song celebrates personal growth, sincere forgiveness and the everlasting hope that music, dancing and an honest apology can bring two hearts back together.
Under the blazing 30-degree Argentine sun, the narrator decides it is time to swap endless drinks for something sweeter: el amor de su vida. Luck Ra’s lively cuarteto groove, boosted by Dread Mar I’s reggae smoothness, turns this search into a summertime anthem. Instead of another wild night with "hermanos" and alcohol, he dreams of sunset kisses, lounging on the sand, and waking up still in love at dawn.
The hook—“ando buscando un amor… de verano, pero duradero”—captures the heart of the song: a playful hunt for a romance that starts in the heat of summer yet lasts well beyond the season. It is an open invitation: if anyone feels the same thirst, "la puerta está abierta." Packed with tropical energy and sincere longing, this track reminds us that while single life can be fun, nothing beats finding someone to share both the sunshine and the long-term warmth.
Fue Culpa Tuya turns heartbreak into a dance-floor confession. Luck Ra teams up with fellow Argentine star Tiago PZK to tell the story of a guy who thought he could dodge both la muerte y los cuernos (death and betrayal), only to get blindsided by love gone wrong. Over a lively urban-cumbia beat, he admits that everything he did for his ex “de nada valió,” so now he keeps the party blazing hot while his heart stays ice-cold.
Instead of moping, the narrator blames his former lover for ruining romance for him forever: “Ahora de ninguna puedo enamorarme… fue culpa tuya.” He orders up fernet like a potion, flirts with the line of admirers “haciendo cola,” and even pays the DJ overtime to keep the music pumping. Cupid is recast as a bartender, and each raised glass becomes both a toast and a taunt: this one’s for you. The song captures that uniquely Argentine mix of swagger, humor, and melancholy—inviting listeners to sing, dance, and maybe heal a little while shouting along to the chorus.
Luck Ra transforms an old Spanish proverb into a high-energy party anthem. "Un clavo saca otro clavo" literally means one nail drives out another, a cheeky reminder that the quickest cure for heartbreak is a brand-new fling. Over a bouncing cuarteto beat we follow a newly single queen who swaps tears for glitter: she storms the dance floor, plants daring kisses, downs every last drop of fun, and leaves her ex crying over what he lost.
The chant-like chorus hammers the motto into your head, urging listeners to ditch the past, raise a glass, and dance until sunrise while shouting fondo, fondo (“bottoms up”). It is a playful cocktail of empowerment, mischief, and friendship—perfect for anyone ready to shake off old love and let the rhythm pull out the pain.
Imagine waking up after a breakup and realizing that nothing feels right without the person you love. That is exactly where Luck Ra starts in “Hola Perdida,” a lively Cuarteto track super-charged by KHEA’s urban flair. Over bouncing accordions and a dance-floor beat, the singer confesses he has spent more than a month stuck in bed, missing his ex every single morning. His biggest enemy is not another man but plain old pride – that stubborn voice telling both of them to stay silent. Tired of waiting, he finally grabs the mic (and the phone) to say the words every hopeless romantic longs to hear: “Hola, perdida… soy yo, el examor de tu vida.”
The song is an upbeat plea for a second chance. Luck Ra reminds his “lost one” of unforgettable kisses and late-night memories, insisting that a love this intense can never be erased. KHEA jumps in to back him up, teasing her that her eyes say yes even if her lips say no. Together they create a fun tug-of-war between regret and desire, set to an irresistible rhythm that makes you want to dance while you text your own “lost” love. In the end, the message is clear: some romances are too powerful to stay forgotten – and sometimes all it takes is a catchy chorus and a little Cuarteto swing to bring them back to life.
Luck Ra invites us into a raw, late-night confession room where rap meets heartbreak. Ya No Vuelvas feels like reading the last pages of a love story that refuses to end: the beat is steady, but the emotions are spiraling. With a voice that carries both exhaustion and defiance, the Argentine artist repeats a simple order, “Ya no vuelvas” — “Don’t come back.” Every line drips with the frustration of someone who has counted their apologies and finally run out.
The song flips between fragile hope and cold resignation. He admits he would pretend everything is fine, even let himself be hurt again, yet in the same breath he demands the return of all the time and love he invested. This contradiction captures the messy truth of toxic relationships: wanting distance but craving closure, swearing you have moved on while secretly replaying memories. Luck Ra’s verses turn that tug-of-war into a catchy, cathartic anthem for anyone who has ever loved someone who couldn’t love them back.
TENGO GANAS is a playful, urban love-anthem that kicks off with a daring midnight text. Luck Ra, Kidd Voodoo and Katteyes invite the listener into a fantasy where responsibilities disappear: they will call in sick, uncork good wine and turn every sunrise into breakfast in bed. The office is replaced by a far more tempting “job” — devouring each other’s kisses all day and collapsing into tangled sheets at night.
The song doubles as a cheeky manifesto for carefree passion. Between flirty nods to homemade videos, spicy workout “routines” and spontaneous hotel escapes, the trio paints a world where pleasure is the only currency. It is bold, mischievous and unapologetically sensual, celebrating the thrill of giving in to desire and turning everyday life into a never-ending vacation for two.
“Bebe Dame” is a fiery love anthem where Luck Ra and La K’onga turn romantic yearning into a dance-floor confession. The narrator admits that the relationship feels like a war in love, yet his heart keeps fighting for another chance. He is hooked on the way his partner speaks, haunted by fantasies of being together, and begs her to come back before another sunrise slips away.
With every vente, vente, vente he promises he can love her differently, painting himself as a devoted admirer who is ready, waiting, and unable to get her out of his mind. The song’s upbeat cuarteto-meets-cumbia groove contrasts with its urgent lyrics, making the plea for affection both irresistible and fun to sing along to.
Vuela is Luck Ra’s bittersweet love-letter to anyone nursing a shattered heart. Alongside the soulful vocals of Ke Personajes, the Argentine singer turns his pain into a rhythmic confession: he once “died to meet” this person, yet now he wishes he never had. Each verse paints the lonely strolls through places they shared, the empty winters without her hand, and the gut-punch realization that even his “favorite plans” must go on without his “favorite person.” The infectious percussion might make you sway, but listen closely and you will feel that raw tug-of-war between craving someone and knowing it is time to let them go.
The chorus’s plea—“Mejor vuela… que necesito que ya no me duelas” (“Better fly… I need you not to hurt me anymore”)—is both an act of love and an act of self-preservation. By urging his ex to fly away, Luck Ra admits that the only path to healing is distance, no matter how deeply it splits him “al medio.” The song ultimately celebrates the courage it takes to prioritize your own heart: releasing a love that once felt pure in order to stop the ache and make room for new beginnings.
Need a song that feels like a late-night phone call to your ex? “QUE ME FALTE TODO” unites two of Argentina’s most heartfelt voices, Luck Ra and Abel Pintos, in a powerhouse ballad for anyone who has ever nursed a shattered heart. From the very first “Hey”, the singers paint an icy scene: the house is cold, the bed is empty, and the only thing warmer than a blanket is the memory of a love that used to be.
At its core, the song is a bold declaration of priorities. The narrator repeats “tú y yo” like a mantra, insisting that nothing matters unless the two lovers are together. Money, comfort, even sleep can vanish; what really counts is sharing “otra madrugada” – another dawn side by side. It is a bittersweet mix of vulnerability and devotion, reminding us that the deepest relationships can leave the deepest voids, yet also inspire the fiercest hope for reunion.
Quiero Creer feels like a 3 a.m. voicemail wrapped in irresistible cumbia-pop. Luck Ra teams up with La T y la M and Rusherking to play the lovesick caller who dials his ex over and over, certain that if he just speaks after the tone she will remember the sparks they shared. He is roaming the night, bottle in hand, heart in his throat, praying she is thinking of him too.
Between sips of fernet (Argentina’s party drink of choice) and pulsing accordion hooks, the song swings from swagger to vulnerability. The chorus is a hopeful chant: “Quiero creer…” – I want to believe. He wants to believe drunken thoughts reveal true feelings, that neither of them has forgotten, and that they will soon escape to a place with no witnesses. It is a modern serenade where liquid courage, late-night nostalgia and the beats of Argentine nightlife blend into one catchy plea for a second chance.
Luck Ra turns up the emotional volume in “Como Es Eso,” inviting us into a late-night conversation where heartbreak, desire, and tough choices all share the same beat. The narrator urges a woman to ditch the “bobo” who no longer gives her warmth, reminding her that whenever she feels broken she runs back to him—because “nadie como yo te lo parte.” Beneath the catchy melody lies a push-and-pull: the singer wants to rescue her from a toxic relationship while wrestling with his own longing, jealousy, and vulnerability.
At its core, the song is a plea for genuine love and respect. He highlights how easily she returns only when things go wrong, promising he would never hurt her and asking if she will finally stay. Photos kept on his phone, the ache of seeing her with someone else, and the insistence that he once made her happy “hasta con la ropa puesta” paint a picture of love that still burns even after separation. “Como Es Eso” blends Argentinian pop-urbano grooves with relatable storytelling, turning a messy romantic triangle into an anthem about knowing your worth and refusing to settle for half-hearted love.
Luck Ra and LIT killah turn heartbreak into swagger in Cuéntame. Over a catchy, urban-pop beat, the singer speaks directly to an ex who once had him “prisoner” of her kisses. Now he is finally free, proudly reporting that life is better “desde que estoy lejos de tu piel.” The hook “Cuéntame, ¿cómo te va?” flips the usual breakup script: instead of asking for another chance, he invites her to confess how much she misses him, knowing she will come running back when no one else makes her happy.
The lyrics bounce between memories (the last kiss on the beach, her plea for him not to leave) and a newfound resolve not to repeat old mistakes. With playful confidence, Luck Ra erases her from his wallpaper, forgets the color of her lips, and refuses to compete for her attention. The result is an empowering anthem about self-respect, closure, and the sweet satisfaction of moving on while your ex can only look back.
“Te Mentiría Remix” feels like a late-night confession booth set to a lively Argentine pop-urban beat. Luck Ra and Rusherking play the role of ex-lovers who brag about their new single life—clubs, drinks, tours, money—yet keep tripping over the same truth: they still ache for each other. Each time they sing “no te vo’ a mentir…,” they promise honesty, only to admit that every party spotlight secretly reminds them of the one person they pretend to forget.
Behind the catchy hooks lies a tug-of-war between ego and vulnerability. The singers list what their ex supposedly wanted—someone polished, wealthy, problem-free—while pointing out they are the exact opposite: “borracho y con la billetera vacía.” Still, they insist that no matter how many “otros” appear, the bond feels unbreakable. The remix turns heartbreak into a dance-floor anthem, capturing that bittersweet moment when you toast to freedom yet secretly hope to run into the same familiar arms before the night ends.
Imagine spending weeks stuck in bed, replaying every kiss and message from a love you thought was gone for good. Hola Perdida Remix drops us right into that late-night heart-ache, where Luck Ra, Maluma, and KHEA dial up an old flame and fight past their own pride to say: “I still want you.” The chorus is basically a voicemail on steroids, turning a simple “hello, stranger” into a bold declaration that certain passions never fade. Each verse stacks vivid memories—lazy mornings, dizzy nights out, jealous missteps—until the need to reconnect feels almost electric.
Yet this is no sad-sack ballad. The beat bounces, the vocals tease, and the three artists trade confessions like friendly rivals, hyping each other up while chasing the same irresistible girl. The message? Love this intense refuses to stay silent. Whether you call it reggaeton-pop or urban romance, the song celebrates that reckless moment when you grab the phone, ignore the hour, and gamble everything on one more shot at the love of your life.
Te Mentiría spins a playful yet bittersweet confession: Luck Ra swaggers about nightlife, money, and freedom, claiming he is thriving without commitment, but the moment his ex appears, that cool façade crumbles. He admits he would be lying if he said he would not run back into her arms, even while she dates others and publicly flaunts a picture-perfect romance. The song captures the tug-of-war between ego and vulnerability, spotlighting how we sometimes mask lingering feelings with parties, bravado, and late-night texts.
Between catchy pop hooks and cheeky Argentine slang, Luck Ra paints a relatable portrait of modern love’s contradictions. He teases his ex for wanting someone “serio y tranquilo,” yet confesses he still feels she is his regardless of new partners. The result is a vibrant mix of humor, jealousy, and yearning—perfect for singing out loud while secretly wondering whether you, too, would dive back into a past relationship you pretend to be over.
Luck Ra, the rising voice from Córdoba, Argentina, turns late–night nostalgia into a dance-floor confession in "No Es Así". Over a catchy urban-cuarteto beat, he admits he still misses his lover’s “boca, perfume y pelo” and remembers feeling like he touched the sky when they were together. Yet rumors circle them both, and the singer faces a bad-boy reputation he can’t quite shake. The hook “No sé qué te contaron… pero te juro, no es así” is his promise that the gossip is wrong and his feelings are real.
Beyond the flirtatious lines about Nike sneakers and Instagram likes, the song dives into vulnerability. Luck Ra confesses past heartbreak, offers the only heart he has left “sin repuesto,” and asks her to take a leap of faith. No Es Así captures that thrilling moment when attraction, doubt, and hope collide: two people marked by previous mistakes choosing to trust each other one more time—and turning their chemistry into a fresh start they can dance to.
Luck Ra transforms a classic love-chasing-love story into a catchy Argentine pop anthem. In Y TE VAS ("And You Leave"), the singer speaks straight to a girl who once ignored his affection. He has always had “lo que buscas” – everything she was looking for – but she could not see it. She walked away, leaving him drowning in unanswered questions and unreplied messages. Now she comes back “enamorada,” claiming she finally feels the love hidden in every detail he used to give her.
The twist? He is no longer waiting. While she repeats “y te vas” like a boomerang romance, he answers with “y me voy.” The song captures that bittersweet moment when someone realizes too late what they lost, while the other finds the strength to let go. Expect lively guitars, a chant-ready chorus, and a lesson in self-respect: if love shows up only after it is gone, sometimes the best response is to dance away.
Turn up the cuarteto beat and imagine the lights of Córdoba spinning around you. On the surface, "Te Mentiría" feels like a carefree night out: shots in hand, music blasting, and an artist who insists he is doing just fine. Luck Ra swaggers about the city with La K'onga’s accordion-driven groove behind him, bragging that the parties, the tours, and the zeros in his bank account are keeping him happy.
Yet every bold claim hides a crack in his heart. The moment his former love walks by, all that bravado crumbles. He confesses he would be lying if he said he would not run back into her arms, even while admitting the relationship is officially over. The song spins between pride and vulnerability, between moving on and still feeling possessive—capturing that messy stage when you pretend you are over someone, but your pulse betrays you the second you see them. In short, this is a dance-floor heartbreak anthem: upbeat enough to make you move, real enough to make you remember.
Dejemos Todo Así is Luck Ra’s bittersweet invitation to hit the pause button on a relationship that is clearly running out of time. Instead of arguing or making grand promises, the Argentine artist suggests something far more impulsive: “Let’s leave everything just like this and squeeze every last drop of fun out of what we’ve got left.” He has just learned that his lover no longer gets jealous, that her heart is torn between him and someone else, yet he still craves one more night of kisses, music, and adrenaline.
Behind the flirty lines and swaggering flow, the song hides a vulnerable core. Luck Ra admits he is “dying of jealousy,” haunted by her perfume and by memories of their late-night parties. He knows the romance is broken beyond repair, but his body won’t let go, and alcohol feels easier than a clean goodbye. That push-and-pull between confidence and despair makes the track both catchy and relatable, turning it into an anthem for anyone who has ever tried to dance away heartbreak before the lights come on.
Odio Amarte is a roller-coaster confession of loving someone so much it almost hurts. Luck Ra and Lautaro López paint the picture of a heart that refuses to forget: days feel gray, memories cling to the skin, and every attempt to move on circles back to the same name. The singer promises to disappear if that would make their ex happier, yet admits that life without them feels impossible. It is the classic tug-of-war between “I’ll let you fly if that’s what you need” and “please come back, no one compares to you.”
At its core, the song is about accepting that love can be messy. Sometimes the most caring act is stepping aside, even when your own world stops spinning. The chorus sums it up: living means hating to love this person, knowing the relationship may never happen again, but also knowing that the memory will never fade. Listeners are left with a bittersweet reminder that true love is not always easy or logical—it is complicated, contradictory, and unforgettable.
Luck Ra & Tüli’s collaboration, Qué casualidad, feels like bumping into destiny on a crowded Córdoba dance-floor. The singers trade verses full of cheeky compliments, playful flirting, and heart-on-sleeve confessions. What starts as a simple “you look amazing” quickly turns into a wide-eyed realization: finding each other was pure chance, and now letting go would be almost impossible. Between the lines you can feel the rush of first attraction, the glow of being supported “cuando no había guita,” and the mix of excitement and panic that comes from falling hard without a plan.
At its core the song celebrates serendipity and the sweet chaos of love. The repeated hook, Qué culpa tengo yo de enamorarte / Qué culpa tuve yo de enamorarme, asks a playful question: if fate threw us together, can anyone really be blamed for this whirlwind romance? Luck Ra’s smooth Argentine phrasing and Tüli’s sultry responses paint a picture of two people magnetically drawn to each other, wrestling with their heads while their hearts (and bodies) are already intertwined. It’s an infectious reminder that sometimes the best stories begin with a simple, unpredictable coincidence.
“Fuego” is a high-energy ode to the magnetic pull of nightlife and irresistible attraction. Luck Ra and Rusher King paint the picture of a woman who lives for the heat of the dance floor, lighting up every club she enters. The singer’s perfume, his flow, and his swagger trail behind him like sparks, making everyone ask, “Who is that?” She keeps coming back for more, demanding fuego, fuego, fuego – the fiery chemistry that only he seems to ignite. The chorus, with its relentless chant, mirrors the repetitive thrill of late-night encounters where passion blurs into impulse and the party never seems to end.
Beneath the catchy beat, the lyrics hint at a playful yet complicated game: she wants everything new, craves the rush, but later complains about getting burned. The artists capture that push-and-pull dynamic where attraction feels like a sport, fueled by desire and ego, until nobody can remember if they are dancing for love, for fun, or simply to keep the flames alive. “Fuego” celebrates that intoxicating moment when music, lights, and hearts all burn at once – a reminder that sometimes the hottest nights leave the deepest marks.