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

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.

Get ready for a masterclass in bragging from two of Puerto Rico's biggest stars, Eladio Carrión and Bad Bunny. "Kemba Walker" is all about flexing their success, wealth, and untouchable status. Eladio kicks things off by comparing himself to the basketball player Kemba Walker during his legendary college days, saying, "Soy Kemba Walker pa' cuando jugaba en UConn" (I'm Kemba Walker from when he played at UConn). He's basically telling everyone he's in his prime and can't be stopped. The whole song is packed with clever, and sometimes hilarious, lines about being covered in designer clothes, having more money than they can spend, and calling out anyone who's faking it.

Bad Bunny jumps in and matches the energy perfectly, switching up the basketball reference to "Tracy McGrady pa' cuando jugaba en Houston" (Tracy McGrady from when he played in Houston), another player at his absolute peak. He talks about his crew being so tough they could take down anyone, even wrestling legends. A key theme for both is loyalty and distrust of outsiders. Eladio says, "Sólo tengo hermanos, yo no tengo amigos" (I only have brothers, I don't have friends), while Bad Bunny admits, "Mientras más pasa el tiempo, yo menos confío" (The more time passes, the less I trust). It's a bold track where they declare they're on another planet of success and not afraid to let everyone know it.

Eladio Carrion's "TQMQA" is a super sweet and direct love song. The title itself is an abbreviation for the main hook: "Te quiero más que ayer" (I love you more than yesterday). The whole idea is that his love for this person is growing every single day. He says he loves her more than yesterday, "Y mucho menos que mañana" (And much less than tomorrow), because tomorrow he'll love her even more. It's a simple, powerful way to describe a love that's constantly getting stronger.

He makes it clear that this isn't about money or material things. He tells her, "No, no, no me hables de dinero / Que eso yo lo puedo hacer" (No, no, don't talk to me about money / I can make that). What he really wants is her affection and to see her happy. He's ready to commit completely, even telling her he's done with other girls: "A las otras unfollow" (Unfollow the other girls). He's putting his past behind him and focusing only on her, right now, today.

This song is a straight-up flex about a secret affair with a woman who loves luxury. Eladio and Bad Bunny trade verses about a girl who is already in a relationship, but they think that's a bad fit. As Bad Bunny puts it, "Ese culo tan lindo y tú con novio / Baby, eso no pega" (That beautiful ass and you have a boyfriend / Baby, that doesn't fit).

They describe a lifestyle filled with designer brands like Coco Chanel, Louis Vuitton, and Bottega, and wild encounters. It's all about money, sex, and living large. Eladio boasts about his wealth, telling her "Tengo chavos con cojones, chapéame" (I have a shtload of money, be my gold digger). The whole relationship is a secret—"Preguntan por mí y ella lo niega"* (They ask about me and she denies it)—but she'll drop everything to see him. It's a fun, boastful track that's all about the thrill of a forbidden, high-fashion romance.

“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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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 and Jay Wheeler spend this whole song losing the same argument with themselves. The hook says it plainly: "Creo que me toca alejarme de ti" ("I think I have to get away from you"), and two lines later he takes it back: "Pero no puedo" ("But I can't"), "No puedo olvidarme de ti" ("I can't forget about you"). That's the whole song in miniature, one line deciding to leave and the next one calling instead.

The verses fill in why it's this hard. He got drunk trying to erase her, "Ayer me emborraché para olvidar lo de nosotros" ("Yesterday I got drunk to forget about us"), and it didn't work; even money stops helping, "Ahora los phillie' no me dan para olvidarte" ("Now the money isn't enough to forget you"). By the bridge he admits the two of them have turned the breakup itself into the relationship: "Peleamos, chingamos para despejarno'" ("We fight, we fuck to clear our minds"). Nobody here is winning. They're just repeating the same night on a loop.

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.

Eladio Carrion kicks off this song with a classic breakup problem for the modern age. His ex tells him "Adiós, me dijo 'Te veo'" [Goodbye, she told me 'See you'], which is a total contradiction! Then she blocks him on social media. He's confused and hurt, telling her "Baby, real yo ya no te creo" [Baby, for real I don't believe you anymore] because she used to be his "trofeo" [trophy]. He's trying to act tough, bragging that he's on the radio and has other girls, but he immediately admits "Pero nadie como tú" [But nobody's like you].

He spends the rest of the song pleading for her to come back, even though he knows he messed up. He begs her not to give him mixed signals, saying "No digas adiós si vas a volver" [Don't say goodbye if you're going to come back]. He even references other famous reggaeton breakup songs, saying he sang "Te Boté" [I Threw You Away] to her, and she replied with "Tusa" [Heartbreak]. It's a messy, emotional, and very relatable story about a relationship that feels like a rollercoaster, or as he puts it, a "montaña rusa" [roller coaster].

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.

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.

Eladio Carrion's "Sauce Boy Freestyle 6" is a powerful anthem about staying true to yourself amidst criticism and fake friends. He's basically saying, "Everyone wants to give advice now, everyone thinks they know me, but where were you when I had nothing?"

He talks about how people offer advice "como si eso es lo mejor pa' mí" [as if that's what's best for me] but they don't know his life or fight his demons. He remembers the hard times, "¿Dónde estabas tú cuando no tenía nada?" [Where were you when I had nothing?], and how he was hustling while others were nowhere to be found. Now that he's successful, dressed in Amiri instead of Old Navy, everyone has an opinion. But Eladio is mentally strong, guided by God, and focused on his fans who are his "gasolina" [gasoline]. He knows there are people who want to see him fall, but he's ready for them, trusting only himself and his close circle. It's a blunt message to the haters and the disloyal, letting them know he's always one step ahead.

"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.

Eladio Carrión opens by keeping score of the small stuff: "Pequeños logros, también los tengo que celebrar" [Small wins, I gotta celebrate them too]. He isn't bragging about a mansion here, just admitting fame hasn't killed the plain habit of noticing progress, and that habit is what the rest of the song runs on.

He flexes like someone who still remembers being broke: courtside watching LeBron pass Kareem, a box seat at a Canelo fight, half a rack of ribs from Chili's ordered to go. In the same breath he names whoever's been talking about him and shrugs it off, "La mayoría viven con su madre, Mr. Crocker" [Most of them live with their mother, Mr. Crocker]. The hook is his own explanation for how he got here from "salimos del hueco" [we got out of the pit]: "Hay que tener fe, cojones y paciencia" [You gotta have faith, balls, and patience]. By the last verse that patience has paid out for real, "Acabo de cantarle a treinta mil gente' en Valencia" [I just sang to thirty thousand people in Valencia].

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.

"Friends" is Eladio Carrión's playful, explicit ode to a wild night out. He's on the lookout for someone who doesn't follow trends and brings her own crew along, and the song moves fast through flashy brand names (Versace, Gucci, a Benz) and a nod to Rosalía as the ultimate reference for standing out.

Underneath the flex, the lyrics are direct about wanting a no-strings, judgment-free night: dancing close, drinks and weed, and honesty about what everyone's really there for. It's less a love song than a hookup anthem, with Eladio painting himself as confident and in control the whole way through.

The repeated hook, "son todas tens, ella tiene su estilo, no sigue trends," is the thesis: he's drawn to people who set their own style rather than chase what's popular.