Learn Spanish With Eladio Carrion with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)

Eladio Carrion's "Buenos Días" is a really uplifting track about starting each day with gratitude and a positive mindset. He wakes up thankful to be alive, saying "To' los días son buenos días / Despierto y doy gracias que abrí los ojos" [Every day is a good day / I wake up and give thanks that I opened my eyes]. It's all about protecting your inner peace and energy, not sharing it with just anyone. He acknowledges that life isn't always happy, and you have to learn to "bailar en la lluvia" [dance in the rain], letting the drops wash away bad vibes.

This song is a great reminder to trust in time to heal wounds and to be grateful for everything you have and don't have. Eladio emphasizes not forcing things that aren't meant for you, because "El tiempo aquí que tengo es corto" [The time I have here is short]. He values genuine intentions and healthy relationships, not caring what envious people say. He even says, "Mis errores no me definen" [My mistakes don't define me]. It's a powerful message about resilience, seeing the beauty in life even when it's tough, and understanding that progress, no matter how small, is still progress. He encourages you to get up and work for what you want, because nothing good comes easily.

In "6PM EN MALLORCA," Puerto Rican artist Eladio Carrión paints a picture of his success, confidence, and focus. He boasts about his money, comparing his tall stacks of Euros to figures like Don Quixote and the towering basketball player Victor Wembanyama. This isn't just about wealth; it's about a mindset. He's a "joven millo" (young millionaire) who is always moving forward, or "siempre alante como un prefijo" (always ahead like a prefix).

Despite his success, he remembers his roots and his mother's advice to protect himself in a "cold world." Carrión's response is one of cool assurance. He acknowledges that people have turned on him, but he isn't hurt, saying he simply "turns the page." He makes it clear he's focused on money ("los cuartos") and not the noise or drama of the industry. He works relentlessly, like an athlete playing 150 consecutive games, and warns his rivals that while anyone can talk tough on a microphone, it's a different story in person.

"No Te Deseo El Mal" spends three and a half minutes insisting it holds no grudge while listing every bad thing it hopes happens to an ex. The hook is the whole joke: "No te deseo el mal" ["I don't wish you bad"], followed immediately by hoping a cop finds "un kilo encima" ["a kilo on him"] during a routine stop, or that his next flight kicks him off "por no tener mascarilla" ["for not wearing a mask"]. Eladio Carrión and Karol G trade verses building the same bit back and forth: never a real threat, always a specific inconvenience.

The second verse doubles down instead of cooling off. She hopes he "te quedes sin gasolina de camino a tu boda" ["run out of gas on the way to your wedding"], hopes "Y también te la quite Neymar" ["Neymar steals her from you too"], and hopes the cops search his car and find "cocaína con baking soda" ["cocaine cut with baking soda"]. By the time she admits "el mal no te quisiera desear" ["I wouldn't want to wish you harm"], the song has already spent two verses doing exactly that.

Eladio Carrión is usually known for his hard-hitting trap, so hearing him jump on a breezy reggaeton beat to spill his feelings is an absolute treat. The title "TQMQA" is shorthand for the song's catchy hook: "Te quiero más que ayer y mucho menos que mañana" ("I love you more than yesterday and much less than tomorrow"). He does not care about material flexes here. When he says "No me hables de dinero, que eso yo lo puedo hacer" ("Don't talk to me about money, I can make that myself"), he means it; all he really wants is to see her smile and hear her whisper that she loves him too.

He is also hilariously honest about how down bad he is. He calls her a "Bad Gyal, pero no es de España" ("Bad girl, but she's not from Spain"), referencing the famous Spanish dancehall star Bad Gyal to point out that this girl has that exact bold, alluring energy without actually being from Europe. He admits he is lonely and basically begs her to play him if she wants to: "dale, miénteme, que me creo todo" ("go ahead, lie to me, I believe everything"). To seal the deal, he switches to Spanglish, promising that the other girls are getting an instant "unfollow" because he is done messing around: "Yo no juego con mi baby, no play" ("I don't play around with my baby, no games").

Coco Chanel pairs Puerto Rican heavyweight Eladio Carrion with Bad Bunny for a fast, glossy ride through high fashion, secret hookups, and brag-heavy humor.

The story centers on a woman who has a boyfriend, but that does not stop her from meeting up on the low: "Preguntan por mí y ella lo niega / Nunca sale, pero si es por mí ella le llega" ("They ask about me and she denies it / She never goes out, but if it is for me, she shows up"). The track is packed with designer tags like Bottega, Louis V, and Valentino, set against over-the-top flexing. Eladio drops lines about dining on Carbone pasta and taking shopping trips from Milan to Rimini. He jokes about horoscope warnings ("Las de escorpio son peligro" / "Scorpio women are dangerous"), while Bad Bunny drops sports and pop culture references. He brags about scoring without missing like NBA star Luka Dončić ("Me siento Luka cada vez que tiro porque no fallamos"), mentions Pixar's Luca Paguro, and makes a wild punchline about the Marvel villain who wiped out half the universe: "En la cama dejamos más polvos que Thanos" ("In bed we leave behind more dust than Thanos"). It is cocky, funny, and direct about sneaking around in pure luxury.

"El Hokage" is Eladio Carrión's victory lap. He traces the arc from a kid in Caguas selling women's shoes to a rapper who can namedrop Amiri, Tumi, and courtside seats with Mbappé and Hakimi without blinking. The title nods to Naruto's Hokage, the strongest ninja in the village, and the whole song leans on that swagger: he's not the third or second best, he's the top.

Under the flexing sits a wary edge. He raps about staying armed, keeping quiet if the police ask questions, and drawing a hard line between friends and "opps" - even the cops count as opps here. "Y yo no confío, yo no tengo mucho panas" (And I don't trust, I don't have many friends) is the hook that repeats twice, a reminder that the success came with isolation attached.

Pop-culture references do a lot of the work: Batman, Mila Kunis, Gollum's ring for how precious money is to him. It's a song about having made it, said with a wink and one eye still on the door.

"Kemba Walker" is pure, unadulterated flex from Puerto Rican rappers Eladio Carrion and Bad Bunny. The title comes straight from basketball star Kemba Walker's college days at the University of Connecticut, with Eladio boasting, "Soy Kemba Walker pa' cuando jugaba en UConn" ("I'm Kemba Walker back when he played in UConn"). They pack the track with sports references, comparing their dominance to Tracy McGrady in Houston and the 2004 Detroit Pistons lineup of Ben Wallace and Richard Hamilton shutting down the competition. They even pull moves from pro wrestling, bragging they'll put you in a hold like Chris Jericho ("flow Chris Jericho") or hit the Undertaker with his own finisher ("Hasta al Undertaker le hacemos la Tombstone").

Beyond sports and wrestling, the lyrics drop heavy streetwear flexes and hilarious punchlines. Eladio brags about being decked out head-to-toe in Louis Vuitton ("filoteado de Louis Vuitton") while mocking posers who claim to stay in fancy hotels using cheap coupons ("to' son de Groupon"). Bad Bunny jumps in to flex his wealth at age 25, his iced-out jewelry making people say "Let It Go" like the movie Frozen, and an entire garage of luxury cars he does not even bother to drive ("La Lambo y 6 Mercedes que nunca los guío"). It is an energetic, wildly confident track all about being at the absolute top of your game.

Eladio Carrion's "Bendecido" is a super honest look into his world, where he's dealing with a lot but still feels incredibly lucky. He starts out with a blunt warning about loyalty, saying, "Y si me fallas una vez, es mala tuya / A la segunda es mala mía / Ya a la tercera, na, es una fresquería / Y van a tener que buscarme en un carro de policía" [If you fail me once, that's on you / The second time, that's on me / By the third, na, that's just rude / And they're going to have to look for me in a police car]. He's not playing games! Even though he faces "Problemas, problemas me llegan, problemas y el sueño que no lo consigo" [Problems, problems come to me, problems and sleep I can't get], he keeps coming back to the main idea: "Yo estoy bendecido, yeah" [I am blessed, yeah].

He's got a tough exterior, admitting "Hay lágrimas adentro que quiero derramar / Pero yo lo mantengo gangster como Denzel" [There are tears inside I want to shed / But I keep it gangster like Denzel]. He's learned a lot from his experiences, saying "Lo mejor que hice fue aprender a tomar to' mis L's / Porque esas L's son ganancia" [The best thing I did was learn to take all my L's / Because those L's are profit]. Family is everything to him, as he states, "Que no se vire la familia es lo único que yo pido, yeah" [That my family doesn't turn on me is the only thing I ask for, yeah]. It's a powerful message about finding gratitude and strength even when life throws a lot at you.

4AM EN IBIZA drops you straight into Eladio Carrión’s jet-set mid-night reality. It is 4 in the morning, the clubs on the White Island are still booming, and the Puerto Rican star is already plotting the next flight to Barcelona. Over pounding trap drums he flashes images of mustard-yellow Lamborghinis, designer sneakers, A-list athletes and plates of gourmet food, all while boasting that he finishes every “mission” like Rambo. In his world there is simply “no competition,” and money stacks as tall as Don Quijote’s windmills.

Yet beneath the luxury and bravado, Eladio keeps an eye out for “serpientes” and still hears his mom telling him to abrígate because the world is cold. The song is both a victory lap and a cautionary nod to loyalty: enjoy the spoils, stay laser-focused, trust only the real ones. With rapid-fire sports references and globe-trotting shout-outs, “4AM EN IBIZA” becomes a swagger-filled anthem that celebrates hard-earned success while reminding listeners to stay sharp and true to their roots.

In "La Fama," Eladio Carrión explores the dark side of fame and success. He opens up about a surprising truth: he was happier when his bank account was at zero. Despite achieving all his goals, he feels that true happiness is still out of reach, even admitting to having had suicidal thoughts. The central message is crystal clear:

• Fame is not happiness.
• Money only brings comfort, not joy.

Carrión contrasts his authentic approach to music with others who chase publicity. He feels the pressure of his new life, from the loss of privacy that requires him to have security, to the exhaustion of constant touring. He craves real love and loyalty but finds himself surrounded by "fake love" from people who smile to his face but betray him behind his back. Through it all, he remains focused on his music for his fans, who he calls his best lawyers, and takes pride in his hard-earned success.

“Hola Cómo Vas” is Eladio Carrión’s bittersweet voicemail to an old flame, sent from the hazy space between dreams and reality. The Puerto Rican-American rapper wakes up after noon because the only time he can “see” his ex is while sleeping. In each verse he greets her with a casual “Hello, how you doin’?” yet instantly admits how much he still misses the joy she once brought him. Regret pulses through the chorus: he loved her, failed to value her, and now has to swallow the hard task of forgetting. That tug-of-war between wanting her to stay and knowing she is already gone makes the song feel like a looped daydream that ends the moment his eyes open.

Carrión spices the heartbreak with playful wordplay and cultural nods, comparing their love to a classic telenovela (“como el de Amaro”) and describing her on-again, off-again visits as “like a gunshot” when she leaves. The production’s mellow trap beat mirrors the lazy, half-awake mood of someone lying in bed long after sunrise, replaying memories as if they were new episodes. In short, “Hola Cómo Vas” captures that universal moment when you text an ex just to feel close again, even though you know the relationship lives only in your dreams.

Eladio answers Bad Bunny’s song of the same name by taking the title and refusing to hand it back. The whole first verse is one long rhyme on English words dropped into Spanish sentences: Gallery, calories, factory, allergy, Blackberry, delivery. He keeps going until it gets silly, and that is the joke. “El cartero daba la asistencia perfect con el delivery, Ribéry” (the mailman gave the perfect assist with the delivery, Ribéry) piles a postman, a basketball assist and a French winger into eleven words, and then he tops it with “Todo lo que sale de mi boca es fresco como si vomité Listerine” (everything that comes out of my mouth is fresh like I threw up Listerine).

The hook is one Puerto Rican word doing all the work. “Estamos burlao’, estamos burlao’, estamos burlao’” (we’re killing it, we’re killing it, we’re killing it) is burlado worn down to burlao’, and it means winning so comfortably you can afford to laugh at everyone. What makes the song better than a flex is the last verse, where he stops bragging and starts counting: “Gracias a Dios que llegamos a los 30” (thank God we made it to thirty), “Mami no me va a ver en la caja” (Mom isn’t going to see me in a coffin), “Yo corté un par de panas” (I cut off a couple of friends). The bill for the Casa de Campo weekends turns out to be a list of people he no longer speaks to.

In "Mala Mía Otra Vez," which translates to "My Bad Again," Puerto Rican artist Eladio Carrion tells the story of a relationship on the verge of collapse. The song opens with him just landing from a trip, realizing his texts aren't going through, and acknowledging that rumors about his actions are spreading. He admits to a toxic cycle of lies and retaliation, where an "eye for an eye" approach is making them both blind to a solution.

He reveals his partner's frustration, quoting her saying, "loving you is f***ing difficult" and that if he's going to cheat, he should at least be considerate. She demands an equal "fifty-fifty" partnership, declaring that love alone is no longer enough. Despite this, he can't get her out of his head, saying she lives there "rent-free." The chorus becomes a desperate plea for a second chance. He asks her not to burn their photos and begs her to "educate" him on how to love her right, showing a moment of vulnerability and a desire to fix what he has broken.

Eladio Carrión's "Flores En Anónimo" is a heartfelt plea for a second chance after a breakup. He's clearly full of regret, wishing he could turn back time to that last intimate moment: "Y si yo llego a saber / Que ese beso iba a ser nuestro último momento íntimo / Me quedaba un rato más contigo" [And if I had known / That that kiss was going to be our last intimate moment / I would have stayed a little longer with you].

The song is all about him taking responsibility for what went wrong, calling it "culpa mía, un efecto dominó" [my fault, a domino effect]. He's sending "flores en anónimo" [flowers anonymously] and promising to change, not just for her, but "por los dos" [for both of us]. He's holding onto hope, even though it seems she's already moved on, leaving him "en visto" [on read]. But he still believes that "si tú vuelves / Te juro que to' se resuelve" [if you come back / I swear everything will be resolved].

“Tiffany” is a high-energy victory lap where Puerto Rican star Eladio Carrión teams up with Mexican phenomenon Peso Pluma to flaunt everything they have earned: Tiffany-blue Glocks, iced-out Rollies, Patek and Audemars watches, German cars, Italian shoes, and pockets so “obese” they need no diet. The song’s hook repeats like a winning chant, reminding us that the pair keep “multiplying” their money while applying constant “pressure” on the competition. Luxury brands, sports heroes (Giannis, Tatís, CP3, Shaq), and pop-culture shoutouts swirl together to paint a picture of unstoppable ambition and next-level swagger.

Beneath the glossy jewelry and roaring engines is a message of loyalty and grind. Eladio and Peso salute their crew, insisting that success is sweeter when the whole team eats at the same table. They were once underestimated, but now they control the scoreboard, turning every check into more checks and proving doubters wrong. “Tiffany” is more than a flex anthem; it is a statement of resilience, teamwork, and the thrill of turning dreams into diamond-bright reality.

Socio explodes as a bold declaration of independence from Puerto Rican-American rapper Eladio Carrión, joined by Luar La L. Right from the hook they draw a line in the sand: you are not my friend, my bro or my partner. Over a gritty trap beat they salute loyalty to the real, laugh at superficial collaborations, and flaunt hard-earned victories — Ferraris in the valet, stacks of cash that dwarf a wallet, and verses they liken to pure cocaine pumping through speakers.

Beneath the flashy boasts sits a grittier truth: life might be “una perra,” but quitting is never on the table. Eladio and Luar rap about haters eager to see them slip, staying “ready every day like Warzone,” and turning every studio session into profit. The track is a street-honed manifesto of ambition where only authenticity, relentless work and ironclad confidence earn a seat at the table. Raw, confrontational and ultimately empowering, Socio is the perfect soundtrack for anyone hungry to level up while keeping fake friends at arm’s length.

"Mama's Boy" is Eladio Carrión's tribute to his mother, Sol María, and he says so from the first line: "Sol María, hoy te doy tus flores, gracias por tus valores" [Sol María, today I give you your flowers, thank you for your values]. He admits his failures — "He cometido errores peleando con dementores" [I've made mistakes fighting with dementors] — and promises he'll never outgrow needing her: "Voy a seguir siendo tu bebé, no importa cuántas veces el mundo haya girado" [I'm going to keep being your baby, no matter how many times the world has spun].

The hook turns the title into pride instead of an insult: "Mama's boy, mama's boy, que to' el mundo lo sepa" [Mama's boy, mama's boy, let the whole world know]. By the last verse he credits her directly for who he became — "La calle me hizo fuerte, los libros me hicieron sabio" [The street made me strong, the books made me wise] — and closes the song hearing her in his own voice: "Mamá, tu voz también se escucha entre mis frases" [Mom, your voice is also heard in my phrases].

Eladio Carrión teams up with Lia Kali for a reggaeton breakup song built on one blunt confession: "Me muero" ("I'm dying"). Lia Kali opens in English, asking "Say you miss me when you're sorry, tell me, baby, are you even sorry?" before Eladio takes over in Spanish, tallying what's left after the split — "No hay Dios ni casa que me ampare" ("There's no God or house to shelter me") and "No hay song que cuente todos mis males" ("There's no song that can tell all my troubles"). He piles boasts on top of the hurt in the same breath, comparing his broken heart to Bowser and Luffy while still admitting "Me tuve que despedir" ("I had to say goodbye").

Eladio Carrión and Myke Towers spend three minutes proving they've made it, using name brands as the scorecard. The hook keeps it plain — "Everything Foreign / M-O-N-E-Y" — before Eladio opens his verse ranking one designer label over another the way a rapper used to rank cars: "Esto no es Kith, lil na, esto es Vetements" [this ain't Kith, lil na, this is Vetements].

Myke Towers takes the back half and turns the boasting into an origin story. He remembers being counted out — "Cuando estaba en cero me subestimaban" [When I was at zero they underestimated me] — and answers it with the line that gives the song its swagger, "Nosotros somos reye' desde chamaquito', ¿oíste?" [We've been kings since we were kids, you hear?], closing the song exactly where it started: on top, and used to it.

“Si Salimos” pairs Puerto Rican-American trap star Eladio Carrión with hip-hop legend 50 Cent for a swagger-packed anthem about street credibility and unstoppable hustle. Over a menacing beat, the two trade verses that paint a picture of late-night getaways in unmarked cars, designer splurges, and a brotherhood that always has each other’s backs. The hook—“Y si salimos, estos cabrones no salen” (“And if we step out, those guys stay in”)—is a bold warning: when their crew shows up, rivals think twice.

Beneath the bravado you hear real-life stakes: Eladio prays for his people’s safety, shows distrust for anyone outside his tight circle, and admits that every luxury comes from relentless work in dangerous environments. 50 Cent echoes the sentiment with English bars about icy jewelry and high-risk loyalty. Together they celebrate success while reminding listeners that it was earned in the trenches, turning the song into both a victory lap and a cautionary tale about the costs of living large in the streets.

This is Eladio Carrión at his most smug, and it works. The hook is the whole attitude: "Hablan mucha mierda de mí porque saben que nunca los voy a mencionar" (They talk a lot of sh*t about me because they know I'll never mention them). The haters want a name-drop in a diss track, and he refuses to give them the free promo.

The flexing is packed with slang. "Dos cincuenta en el cuello" (two fifty on my neck) is an expensive chain, and flexear is Spanglish for "to flex". He is "antisocial con cojones" (seriously antisocial, a vulgar intensifier), and "to' el mundo me cae medio mal" (I kind of dislike everyone). Mi carnal is Mexican slang for "my brother", a nod to the "música regional" (Mexican regional music) his girl has him listening to. Best line: "Esto no es Dora con el mapa" (This isn't Dora with the map), meaning nobody is going to show you the way.

This song is all about that late-night call from an ex you can't quite figure out. Eladio Carrion paints a super clear picture of a woman who parties hard and insists she's over love. As the chorus says, it's "4 a.m., ella ni se sabe la hora" [4 a.m., she doesn't even know the time], and she's mixing substances, claiming "ella no se enamora" [she doesn't fall in love]. But then, like clockwork, "cuando bebe siempre da un call" [when she drinks, she always gives a call]. It's a classic case of mixed signals, and Eladio is right in the middle of it, completely fed up.

He's practically begging for some clarity, asking her directly, "Mami, decídete / ¿Qué tú quieres de mí?" [Baby, make up your mind / What do you want from me?]. He remembers their specific, nerdy good times, like "jugando Zelda, fumando, viendo animé" [playing Zelda, smoking, watching anime], which makes her quick move to someone new feel even worse. He's so deep in his feelings that he claims he's a "sicario" [hitman] fighting for her love. But he's also at his limit, telling her he can't give her his heart because, as he puts it, "¿cómo te doy algo que ya ni tengo?" [how can I give you something I don't even have anymore?]. It's a messy, relatable story about a connection that just won't end cleanly.

"Mariposas" is Eladio Carrión admitting he has a crush he can't shake. The hook says it plainly: "Y yo siento mariposas en mi barriga si yo a ti te veo" (And I feel butterflies in my stomach when I see you). It's the same butterflies idiom English uses, which makes it an easy first line to learn.

The twist is that he knows she's trouble. "Esa gata es maliciosa" (That girl is sly), he says, using gata (literally "cat"), Puerto Rican slang for a girl. He compares her love to Héctor Lavoe, the salsa singer famous for his street life: "tu amor es de la calle" (your love belongs to the streets). She vanishes "como mago" (like a magician) and keeps coming back anyway.

The second verse is pure trap bragging, full of Spanglish verbs: dripiando (from English "drip", showing off his style) and flipiando (flipping, as in flipping money). He name-drops fellow Puerto Rican artists Farruko and Pedro Capó, and even El Chapo. Then he softens again: "Por tu culpa yo no creo en relaciones / Eso fue hasta que te vi" (Because of you I don't believe in relationships / That was until I saw you). It's a funny little contradiction, and kind of sweet.