Learn Spanish With Feid with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Picture a midnight voice note that crackles with longing. In “RU MOR”, Colombian artist Feid reaches out to a girl he has not seen in a while and vents about the distance that separates them. Gossip is flying (“ru mor” = rumor) and her family is not impressed by his flashy chains, tattoos, or the rough-edged friends who ride with him. Feid pushes back with swagger: he has cars, motorcycles, money from “el Baloto”, and even a plan to move her mom to a better neighborhood. Under the bravado, though, you hear a genuine ache. He tells her no one will ever touch her like he does, promises he bears no grudge against her dad, and vows to keep her safe from anyone who talks trash.
The song is a bad-boy love anthem where romance, street credibility, and family disapproval collide. Feid invites his girl to sneak out, throw on a miniskirt, hop in his car, and dance until sunrise. Every boast and threat is really a plea: ignore the rumors, trust the connection, and let’s escape together for one unforgettable night.
“LUNA” is a late-night confession booth set to a smooth Urbano beat. Feid, alongside producer-rapper ATL Jacob, dives straight into that disorienting moment after a breakup when your mind keeps replaying old scenes: trembling knees, stolen smiles, wild nights that were never meant for sleeping. The narrator roams emotional backstreets, cigarette in hand, wondering when his ex stopped calling him “mi reina” and started chasing flashier thrills — trading “plata” for “oro.”
Under the neon glow of regret, the song toggles between nostalgia and frustration. One second he dreams of forgiving her; the next he reminds her not to call when loneliness hits. The hook, “No supe qué día te olvidaste de mí,” hammers home that painful blur where love fades without a timestamp. “LUNA” captures that universal heartbreak puzzle: how someone can go from priceless treasure to distant stranger overnight, leaving you to dance with your memories until sunrise.
Reggaeton rarely feels this raw. In “SE ME OLVIDA,” Colombian hit-maker Feid teams up with Maisak to turn the dance floor into a confessional booth. Behind the pulsing beat lies a guy who keeps partying and calling his ex, only to momentarily forget that she has moved on. Each verse is a scoreboard of failed attempts to erase her: first sad night at the club, second dance with someone else, third drunk dial. Weed, liquor and loud music become his coping kit, yet every chorus snaps him back to the painful truth – the love of his life is now loving someone else.
Despite the heartbreak, the song is playful and vivid. Feid compares luxury brands he never bought her with the cheap guaro (aguardiente) they once shared, remembers how invincible he felt by her side and even dreams of a spontaneous bathroom rendezvous at the disco. The contrast between the upbeat rhythm and the bittersweet lyrics captures a universal feeling: trying to dance your sorrows away while memories hit harder than the bass. “SE ME OLVIDA” is a catchy, neon-lit reminder that moving on is tougher than it looks when every beat, bottle and blurry night still spells her name.
Classy 101 is a high-energy reggaetón lesson in irresistible contrasts. Feid and Puerto Rican rapper Young Miko paint the picture of a woman who looks runway-ready in her Valentino, yet lives for wild, after-hours adventures. The singers can’t get her out of their heads: her polished, “bitchy‐classy” vibe hides a thrill-seeker who prefers freaky and nasty over candle-lit romance. Every verse highlights this double life—luxury labels by day, boundary-pushing fun by night—while the pounding beat mirrors the tension between elegance and raw desire.
At its core, the song is a playful flirtation packed with braggadocio and steamy wordplay. Feid and Young Miko celebrate confident femininity, admitting they are hooked on her danger as much as her beauty. Instead of slow love, they offer house-arrest fantasies, speeding tickets for seductive glances, and promises to make every texted fantasy come true. “Classy 101” is less about flowers and more about adrenaline—an anthem for anyone who loves to mix designer outfits with unfiltered fun on the dance-floor.
Feid’s “SE LO JURO MOR” feels like opening a private voice note meant for an ex-lover. In the first breath he promises to leave her in peace, yet every line that follows reveals how deep the wound still is. The Colombian singer looks back on a romance that seemed perfect on the surface, only to discover masks and borrowed kisses. He admits he lost the classic love game—“el que se enamora, pierde”—and wrestles with the shock of realizing that someone he thought was different could walk away so easily.
The track then shifts from heartbreak to healing-in-progress. Feid tries to numb the sting by club-hopping and spending cash, insisting he won’t waste another minute, but the pain keeps doubling each time the memory cracks his heart. The swagger in his delivery can’t hide questions that haunt him: Who hurt you before me? How could you forget me so fast? With a mix of Spanish and English, he’s both vulnerable and defiant, finally telling her to let go and stop texting “te extraño.” The result is a catchy confession that turns personal heartbreak into a dance-floor anthem, proving that even in pain, Feid knows how to keep the vibe alive.
SORRY 4 THAT MUCH is Feid’s bittersweet goodbye note, served over an irresistible reggaetón groove. The Colombian hitmaker raises a glass to the fun he shared with an ex—those wild nights, the legendary party in Berlin, the feeling of being truly happy—then admits that all he has left are photos and mixed emotions. The beat invites you to dance while the lyrics confess, Me hiciste tan feliz… estoy mejor sin ti, capturing the push and pull of gratitude and heartache.
In just a few verses Feid swings from vulnerable to defiant. He remembers waiting at home while she was out cheating, giving up bad habits to please her, and ignoring his friends. Now he rejects her calls, splurges his cash on new parties, and tells her to save her tears because she already has someone else. The result is a raw, relatable anthem about realizing your worth, thanking the past for its lessons, and turning heartbreak into fuel for one last perreo.
Ferxxo 100 feels like a 3 a.m. voicemail you never meant to send. Over a smooth reggaeton beat, Feid turns his heartbreak into a night-long monologue: he is drunk again, scrolling through his phone, replaying the tracks he once dedicated to his ex, and lighting up where they used to share secret moments. Each line drips with late-night nostalgia, blending sly Colombian slang with universal feelings of “I miss you but I don’t want to admit it.”
At its core, the song is a push-and-pull between moving on and holding tight. Feid tries dating someone new, roaming the streets in hopes of a random encounter, and bombarding his lost love with voice-note songs. Still, every new face only reminds him of her. His plea is simple yet raw: “If you don’t come back, may God protect you”—a bittersweet mix of resignation and hope. “Ferxxo 100” shows that even in a club-ready track full of catchy hooks and Colombian references, vulnerability can take center stage and turn heartbreak into a sing-along anthem.
Brickell is a late-night postcard from Miami’s trendy skyline, where Feid and Yandel replay the memories of a short-lived, super-intense romance. In the song, the apartment in Brickell becomes a time capsule: every promise, every sunrise they shared, and even the half-eaten dinners at hot spots like Papi Steak and Gekko are frozen inside those walls. The narrator can’t shake the feeling that he should have seized that “last time,” stealing the entire day with her before she slipped away. Now he roams the city on a “cacería,” partying, hooking up, even sparking up when he normally wouldn’t, all to drown out the sting of seeing her treat him like a stranger.
Under the smooth reggaetón beat, the lyrics flip between bold confidence and raw vulnerability. One moment he flexes memories of a steamy rendezvous in a Porsche, the next he’s parking outside her place hoping to catch a glimpse. The contrast paints a picture of modern love—fast, flashy, yet filled with what-ifs. Ultimately, Brickell is a bittersweet anthem about how the most vibrant nights can leave the deepest shadows when dawn comes and the person you thought was yours no longer recognizes you.
Normal captures a bittersweet tug-of-war between pride and lingering desire. Feid paints himself as the partner who gave “cien” while receiving only “cincuenta,” yet he still dreams about the girl who traded his bed for someone else’s. The chorus flips the script: when she feels lonely in the club every weekend and his name slips out, that regret is simply “normal.” Through sharp contrasts—luxury brands she no longer wants, late-night phone calls fueled by alcohol, and his own rebound flaunting—Feid shows how both lovers mask heartbreak with parties, money, and bravado.
Under the pulsating reggaeton beat, the song becomes a confident anthem of self-worth. Feid admits the hurt, but he also celebrates moving on, scoring “goals” in every “match,” and challenging his ex to feel the same sting. It is a relatable snapshot of modern breakups in Latin nightlife: flashy on the outside, messy and human underneath.
FRIKI drops you straight into a neon-lit night in Medellín, where Colombian stars Feid and Karol G turn up the reggaetón heat. The lyrics paint a picture of rolling through the city in a maquinón (a flashy car), ordering endless bottles, and sparking up krippy (high-grade weed) while a tight-knit crew of friends takes over the dance floor. It is a celebration of living in the moment: loud beats, bold moves, and zero concern for anyone’s judgment.
Beneath the party glow lies a message of confidence and carefree freedom. The women in the song own the night—they choose where to go, what to drink, and how to dance, turning every club table into their stage. Slang like perrear (grinding dance) and qué chimba (how awesome) adds local flavor, while the repeated “el reggaetón la pone freaky” reminds us that the rhythm itself unlocks their wild side. In short, FRIKI is a pulsating invite to forget the rules, feel the bass, and let your inner freaky dancer take over.
“DALLAX” is a late-night phone call turned into a song. Feid, repping Medellín, and Ty Dolla $ign, phoning in from the U.S., trade verses that drip with nostalgia and desire. The story is simple yet relatable: two ex-lovers drifted apart when she flew to Dallas and he stayed in Colombia, but distance only amplifies the memories. Now both artists spark up, reminisce, and wonder if it is too late to reclaim that electric chemistry they once owned.
Behind the bilingual wordplay and sensual swagger lies an honest confession of mistakes, jealousy, and hope. Feid owns up to his faults, Ty Dolla $ign begs her not to “give his love away,” and together they paint a picture of lovers caught between regret and irresistible attraction. It is a long-distance love anthem that blends reggaeton warmth with R&B smoothness, reminding listeners that sometimes the hardest part of letting go is realizing you still feel the fire.
“SI TÚ SUPIERAS” is Feid’s late-night voice note that was never sent. Over a warm Reggaeton beat, the Colombian star confesses how every party, workout, and Miami sunset is really a failed attempt to erase one unforgettable girl. He scrolls through her stories full of broken-heart emojis, sees other guys sliding into her DMs, and still claims them all as “hijos míos” because their moves could never match his. The song flips between swagger and vulnerability: one minute he is bragging about chains, gyms, and Hot Girl Summer pics, the next he is admitting that any minute spent without her feels “tiempo perdido.”
At its core, this track is a dance-floor plea for a second chance. Feid asks her to keep his sunglasses so she will think of him whenever the beat drops, hoping the rhythm will spark a memory of the goodbye kiss they once shared. The chorus repeats like a looping thought—if only she knew everything he has done to forget her—and the song ends with a bold wish for just one more night together. It is equal parts heartbreak soundtrack and perreo invitation, proving that in Reggaeton, even the toughest “bandido” can be ruled by the heart.
Porfa [Remix] is a super–charged plea for one more chance at love, delivered by a dream team of Latin stars. Feid sets the tone with a confession: he has spent months hunting through social media and memories, desperate to feel his ex’s touch again. One by one, Nicky Jam, Maluma, Justin Quiles, J Balvin, and Sech jump in like heart-broken friends at a karaoke night, each adding his own flavor of regret, jealousy, and late-night craving. Their verses paint vivid scenes of scrolling Instagram, hacking WhatsApp, knocking back drinks in quarantine, and replaying steamy moments that now feel impossibly far away.
Under the catchy reggaeton beat, the chorus is a simple but frantic request: “Porfa, no te vayas” – “Please, don’t go.” The guys admit their mistakes, swear they have left their wild ways behind, and promise that no other person compares. The song captures that anxious mix of nostalgia and obsession when you realize you might have lost the best thing you ever had. It’s a dance-floor banger that doubles as an emotional voice note, begging the listener (and the lost lover) to hit reply before it’s too late.
“CHORRITO PA LAS ÁNIMAS” is Feid’s lively toast to every woman who decides that heartbreak will not ruin her night. Picture a pack of confident friends cruising under the moon in a convertible, lashes on point, speakers thumping reggaetón. They raise a chorrito (a quick shot of liquor) “for the spirits,” then storm the club for ladies’ night. Tears? Old news. Now only eager admirers fall for them, and anyone wanting a dance—or more—has to hustle hard.
Behind the glossy party scenes, Feid celebrates female independence and self-worth. The heroine buys her own luxury, picks her own rhythms, and flips the usual script: men chase while she sets the terms. The song’s pulsing beat and playful slang (“saca esa perra a pasear,” “flow candy”) wrap the message in pure fiesta energy, turning a simple night out into an anthem of freedom, sensuality, and unapologetic confidence straight from Medellín’s urban soundscape.
Feid’s “La Rebuena Mi Fai” feels like an audio diary written at full volume. Across hard-hitting verses he calls out gossip blogs, fake friends, and anyone who tries to claim credit for his success. Instead, he salutes the people who actually matter: his mom, dad, sister, and a tight crew of real friends. The song paints the picture of a kid from Medellín who spent endless nights in the studio, hustling for one chance to record, and who now refuses to let opportunists pull up a chair at his table.
Behind the fierce language sits a clear message. Feid reminds listeners that fame never “falls from the sky”; it is earned through sacrifice, sleepless sessions, and an unwavering belief in yourself. He thanks the critics for the fuel they unknowingly gave him, then delivers a promise: he will not slow down, not even a little. The result is both a fiery anthem of self-defense and a motivational soundtrack for anyone grinding toward a dream.
Feid, the Colombian star of the urbano scene, turns heartache into a catchy confession in "Ferxxo 500". The lyrics follow a narrator who once lost sleep begging for a lover’s affection, only to discover that their return feels “extraño.” He lists the wounds—ignored calls, lonely nights, and scarred memories—then realizes that life without this person might actually be “lo mejor que me podría pasar.”
Instead of dwelling on pain, Feid flips the script: he admits the hurt, but celebrates the freedom that comes after finally saying adiós. From Tiffany jewels left on to missed calls from Italy, every detail paints a picture of a love that fizzled while the beat keeps listeners moving. The song’s core message is clear: learn from the scars, dance through the healing, and never settle for a love that pays you back with dolor.
ROMÁNTICOS DE LUNES paints the picture of a whirlwind romance that refuses to fit neatly into a single weekend. Feid drops his lover off at home only to find himself racing back to her, pulled by a chemistry that outshines late-night parties, easy money and urban chaos. Between luxury shout-outs—Moncler jackets, Cartier lighters, VVS diamonds—and blunt confessions (“He sido un hijueputa”), he admits he is tired of the endless ‘ruta’ of touring and trouble, dreaming instead of waking up to share breakfast with her.
The song bounces between carefree club energy and genuine affection. Feid’s friends warn him to chill, but every Friday night he is scrolling her stories from Coral Gables, ready to light up the city—and the bedroom—again. In short, it is a reggaetón ode to passionate nights, expensive delights and the hope that something real can bloom amid the flashing lights and bass-heavy beats.
De Negro is Feid’s invitation to drop the poker face, slip into an all-black outfit and dive head-first into a night where anything can happen. Backed by Yandel’s unmistakable Puerto Rican flow, the Colombian star paints the picture of a smoky VIP lounge: flashing lights, tall drinks, loud bass. He spots someone who looks too serious, almost hiding behind a “good-girl” mask, and spends the song coaxing her to loosen up—promising that once the refills hit and the kush is lit, both of them will end up on the same wavelength.
Beneath the party talk, the lyrics flirt with a playful duality. Feid admires how she balances innocence with street-smart swagger, calling her “calle” yet “ghetto,” and teasing that tonight there will be an “entierro” (a burial) for all that stiffness when they finally surrender to the rhythm. It is an anthem for nightlife chemistry: dress in black, leave worries at the door, and let music, smoke and desire bury any trace of seriousness until the sun comes up.
PORFA is a heartfelt plea set to a smooth reggaetón groove. From the very first line, we walk into a messy breakup scene: phones buzzing with incriminating texts, jealousy on both sides, and a guy who knows he messed up “no fue una, fueron tres.” Feid and Justin Quiles paint the picture of a lover caught red-handed, yet hopelessly addicted to the very person he betrayed. He admits the rumors, twists, and late-night mistakes, but also insists that no other “baby” compares. The chorus repeats like a desperate voice note: “Please, don’t go, stay with me.”
Under the infectious beat, the song’s core message is simple and raw: regret plus obsession equals a last-ditch apology. The narrator can’t eat, sleep, or even flirt without thinking of her. Karma is knocking, memories haunt every sip of wine, and he’s left clinging to the hope of one more chance. “PORFA” turns a guilty confession into an anthem for anyone who’s ever begged for forgiveness on the dance floor.
NO ME DEJO XXIMBIAR is Feid’s rallying cry for a night of pure reggaetón energy, but on his own terms. Right from the hook – “Yo sí te quiero, pero no me dejo chimbear” – the Colombian star balances affection with self-respect, telling everyone he is here to have fun, not to be played. Using Medellín slang, he makes it clear: chimbear means trying to fool him, and he simply will not allow it. Instead, he heads out to farrear (party hard), calling for shots, good smoke and the hypnotic beat that turns any club into a carnaval.
Throughout the track Feid paints a vivid picture of Latin nightlife. No passport is required to join this fiesta, just good vibes and the courage to lose the shirt when the heat rises. He salutes the DJ, uplifts single women, praises the classy “gatas” who rule the VIP and waves the reggaetón flag with pride. If society points fingers, he’ll answer with one of his own, because this dance floor is a space of freedom, swagger and unity. In short, the song is an invitation: raise your hands, feel the breeze, and celebrate Latin identity with an infectious beat that refuses to be tamed.
CHIMBITA [Reggaeton Acústico] delivers a late-night confession from Colombian artist Feid, who plays the role of a lovestruck outsider. He keeps refreshing the girl’s Instagram stories, wondering why she is suddenly ghosting him after an intense rendezvous. The problem? She is dating a flashy “gángster” who showers her with Mercedes rides, Chanel bags and stacks of hundred-dollar bills, while Feid shows up on a humble motorbike. The lyrics capture that mix of jealousy and desire—he knows she craves the danger, weed and perreo that come with his world, yet he fears she might choose status over genuine chemistry.
Beneath the acoustic reggaeton groove, the song spotlights the classic tug-of-war between money and passion. Feid reminds her that luxury can’t replace authentic intimacy: the other guy may “gastar los chavos,” but he “no te sabe comer.” It’s a playful, slightly raw narrative about secret meet-ups, social-media stalking, and the thrill of forbidden love—all wrapped in Feid’s smooth guitar and rhythmic swing that make the story feel both vulnerable and irresistibly catchy.
Ferxxo 81 is Feid’s late‐night confession phone call wrapped in a reggaetón beat. The Colombian singer flips between braggadocio and vulnerability: yes, he is partying with “gatas” and flexing street credibility, yet every buzzing notification reminds him of the ex he cannot shake. Social media silence from her side fuels his paranoia, while her new relationship awakens a jealous, almost territorial side in him.
Beneath the swagger lies a classic heartbreak narrative. Feid reminisces about her Chanel scent, La Mer creams, and the magnetic pull that still links them like “imanes.” His threats toward the new boyfriend highlight wounded pride rather than real menace, making the track a raw portrait of post‐breakup denial. The result is a song that captures the messy mix of longing, ego, and late‐night regret—perfect for learners wanting a peek into colloquial Colombian slang and the emotional roller coaster of modern love.
“JORDAN IV” is Feid’s playful confession of attraction, told through the language of street style and late-night rendezvous. The Colombian singer paints himself as the guy who knows his crush is trying to keep her distance, yet still lights up whenever his name pops up on her phone. To win her over for just one more night, he comes prepared: fresh clothes, brand-new Jordan Retro IV sneakers, and a little “krippy” (slang for high-quality weed). The chorus, built around the repeated line “Baby, hoy me puse fresco para ti,” shows his determination to impress only her, even if she could be with anyone else.
The verses mix romantic swagger with catchy urban imagery. Feid compares the girl to a “pistola” he would never leave behind, praises her fancy style, and teases that her taste “sabe a coco,” emphasizing how irresistible she is. While the beat bumps, the lyrics reveal a push-and-pull relationship: she keeps saying “don’t call,” yet he knows she is always curious about what he’s up to. “JORDAN IV” is ultimately a celebration of modern flirtation—driven by sneakers, notifications, and mutual temptation—wrapped in Feid’s signature reggaetón vibe.