#2 Es la letra de la canción, me pareció bastante cutre traducirla

#4 Ya no me deja editar, pero me apunto la sugerencia para la próxima, gracias

#6 Gracias otra vez por lo de crío, con canas en los huevos ya hacía tiempo que no me llamaban así

#8 I see the bill killed been working real hard for real
Kneel get the deal spill cups jump meal turn wheel scar heal
′Cause no matter what you feel the real chill
Keep turning the mill in for a sacred frill
Keep turning the prayer wheel form London to Brazil for real
Never took a break to stand still
Everytime put a light on me seal
I see a wall call hear the other side cheers and all
But the doors slamming like a music hall
I feel tall once per year in all small the rest ona 364 or more
'Cause we don′t play 24/24 that's for sure
Eight ball ain't going down the hole
Been working on me feathers since me born worn
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
I feel the taste chased yet somehow get erased
Cased deep down with the down town waste
But just in case the shit gets misplaced
I keep a jpg close and zoom on ya face
Embrace your energy smile no straight face no hypocrite race
Getting me displaced no I ain′t seeking for no hyper space
I′m just waiting for my shit to take place
I see a wall call hear the other side cheers and all
But the doors slamming like a music hall
I feel tall once per year in all small the rest ona 364 or more
'Cause we don′t play 24/24 that's for sure
Eight ball ain′t going down the hole
Been working on me feathers since me born worn
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Tears drying now I filled up the cup
'Cause man gotta sip it up and crank up the watt
Seen crying out loud trying out sounds
Cope with the shit ′cause me been growin' up with it
Nought to prove for me groove stands up
Caught meself a god that told me to wise up here
Everytime ya climb out pride not doubt will arise you lot
I see a wall call hear the other side cheers and all
But the doors slamming like a music hall
I feel tall once per year in all small the rest ona 364 or more
'Cause we don′t play 24/24 that′s for sure
Eight ball ain't going down the hole
Been working on me feathers since me born worn
Me wings are tight but me still on the floor
Writer(s): Florian Gratton, Vincent Benoist, Marc Michel Jacques Jacquemin, Claude Markus Whipple Winter

Gracias por la edición, está mejor así la entradilla