SOLDI A CASA Lyrics in English Simba La Rue , Ghali, FT Kings

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Below, I translated the lyrics of the song SOLDI A CASA by Simba La Rue from Italian to English.

SadTurs

KIID, you ready?

I go in and out of a cell, six times is normal for me

I haven't seen the sea for two summers, I spent them in the stands-

In the cell it's forty degrees, f*cking hell

So many kilos and abracadabra, sold in a week

They know my mom and dad in every jail

I got it in without staining my image

When I was passing you, I was already putting on the cardigan

You got nothing to do with rap, but you're in the headlines

I cut the vocals with a producer

I don't cut stuff anymore, I'm the supplier

I'm throwing stones at that drone

Simba, could you do me a favor?

I'll do you one favor, even two

I come through the chimney like Santa Claus

I stick to mine, you stick to yours

I was starving, now I eat for two

I-I'm with Simba La Rue, mom, we need a duaa

Ghali, bro, we need two duaas

If I don't bring money home, I won't go back home

I leave home thinking only about money

I go out with zero and come back with my pocket bursting

From the envy, kho, my head's exploding

This pasta's good, it's homemade

I smoke zatla, not Colombian

Never brought certain things home

It looked like Baghdad, it was my house

I took three Rivo, my stomach hurts

And I don't get why he's looking at me

I make trouble and it ends up at Niguarda

Pizza delivery, we come into your place

If someone buzzes, I'm not home

I dream of Bellucci walking around the house

Sh*tty racist says, "Go back home"

His daughter's been gone for three days

She was with the forty-year-old doing coke

Junkie asks me for grams

Do me a favor, get the f*ck out

She took some d*ck in exchange for some grams

If I don't bring money home, I won't go back home

I leave home thinking only about money

I go out with zero and come back with my pocket bursting

From the envy, kho, my head's exploding

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SONG MEANING

“Soldi a Casa” is a gritty street diary turned into music. Over a bouncing drill beat, Simba La Rue, Ghali and FT Kings trade verses about the endless hustle that defines their reality: slipping in and out of jail cells, dodging drones and police, and doing whatever it takes to bring the money back home. Every line drips with heat — forty-degree prison cells, envy-induced headaches, and the pressure of knowing that failure means returning empty-handed to worried families.

Yet beneath the tough talk there’s a pulse of vulnerability. The MCs reveal how racism, gossip and constant danger shadow their every move, while dreams of seaside summers and movie-star romances feel distant. “Soldi a Casa” is both a victory lap and a warning siren: a reminder that for many young immigrants on Europe’s streets, survival isn’t about fame or luxury, but about showing up at the front door with pockets full and loved ones proud.

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Simba La Rue SOLDI A CASA Lyrics