Learn Spanish With Feid with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
“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, 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.
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.
Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo is like a voice note sent from the middle of a wild birthday party. Tipsy and nostalgic, Feid toasts himself while dialing up an ex-girlfriend, teasing that she should ditch “ese pirobo” (a Colombian insult for a loser) and join him on the dance floor. Over pounding reggaetón beats, he flashes back to the nights they burned up the club together, promising fresh drinks, hard perreo, and friends who will hype up the vibe.
Beneath the neon lights, the lyrics reveal a mix of celebration and regret. Feid admits he still thinks about her every night, even mixing pills with rum to numb the feelings. He brags about the chain he bought to see her shine and even offers plomo (lead) to any jealous ex who gets in the way. The result is a birthday anthem that blends swagger, longing, and raw Colombian slang—perfect for anyone who’s ever tried to party away a lingering heartbreak.
Prohibidox is Feid’s spicy confession about a romance that lives in the shadows. Over a smooth reggaetón beat, he wonders “¿Por qué lo más rico siempre es prohibido?” and paints vivid scenes of late-night motorcycle rides, hidden smoke sessions, and secret hotel rooms. The thrill of sneaking around heightens every feeling: she wakes up next to another man, yet dreams about Feid, while he can’t stop sending her daring texts that keep the flame alive.
Behind the catchy hooks, the song captures the tug-of-war between desire and consequence. Feid insists their connection is real—everything else is “feka” (fake). Even though their relationship breaks the rules, he celebrates the excitement of being the only one who truly knows how to “tocar tu piel.” It’s a soundtrack for anyone who’s ever felt the magnetic pull of something (or someone) they technically shouldn’t have, wrapped in the signature vibe of Colombia’s rising star.
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.
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.
Feid's "PIDA LO QUE QUIERA MAMI" is a playful yet heartfelt declaration of devotion. Over a laid-back reggaeton beat, the Colombian star tells his girl she can ask for whatever she wants because she earned it. He remembers the days when he had nothing and she still believed in him, so now that the checks are rolling in he is eager to spoil her: closing restaurants, handing over his salary, credit cards - anything to see her smile. Their chemistry is obvious; every time she bites her lips or stands by his side, he feels himself grow more confident and successful.
Beyond the flashy gifts, the song is really a thank-you note. Feid stresses that their bond is rooted in loyalty, gratitude and faith - he even prayed nightly for someone like her. He urges them not to fight over silly things, promising to give her what she deserves and shielding their love from envious onlookers. It is a celebration of a ride-or-die romance where past struggles fuel present passion.
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.
Feid’s “AMOR DE MI VIDA” feels like reading late-night texts no one was ever supposed to see. The Colombian artist confesses that, even while partying with “otro culo,” lighting a Phillie and trying every possible distraction, he can’t shake the thirst for the one woman he calls the love of his life. There was never a proper goodbye, so the singer spirals between regret, jealousy and raw desire, admitting he still tracks her online and replays memories of nights spent “sin condón.” The chorus pulses with urgency: “Dime si tú vienes o yo voy… esto no puede pasar de hoy,” a plea for an immediate reunion before the chance slips away forever.
The song captures that bittersweet space where moving on feels impossible. Feid owns up to his mistakes, imagines she might be with someone new and still believes their bond is unbreakable. His lyrics swing from swagger to vulnerability, reminding listeners that no party, hookup or smoke session can erase a love that never got its final chapter. In short, “AMOR DE MI VIDA” is a reggaeton-laced diary entry about longing, late apologies and the hope that true love might answer the phone one more time.
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.
“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.
ESQUIRLA paints the picture of a fearless woman who has turned heartbreak into high-voltage energy. Her ex left a “shrapnel” in her heart, yet instead of visiting a doctor or sinking into sorrow, she prescribes herself perreo, loud music, and shots with her friends. Each sweaty night on the dance floor erases another scar, trading pain for rhythm and neon lights.
Feid follows her as she upgrades her life from monotony to jet-setting selfies in New York, Milan, and Paris. The chorus reminds us that the wound was deep, but the real story is her self-repair: she’s not waiting for anyone to fix her. With booming reggaetón beats, the song becomes a celebration of resilience, confidence, and the liberating power of dancing until dawn.
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.
Perfecta pairs Colombian stars Feid and Greeicy in a vibrant celebration of self-confidence and magnetic first impressions. The song opens with pure admiration: she feels amazing, her dress fits flawlessly, and even the night seems to revolve around her glow. Listeners are invited to picture a confident woman who walks out the door owning every step, so radiant that the moon gets jealous while the sun claims it saw her shine first. Feid urges her to let loose and dance, capturing that electric moment when someone’s presence lights up the entire scene.
As the playful back-and-forth unfolds, “Perfecta” becomes more than simple compliments. The singers trade flirty lines about honesty, independence, and the thrill of possibility. She reminds him that she doesn’t need anyone to define her perfection, yet she’s curious enough to listen if he says something truly original. He, in turn, promises sincerity because real connection matters more than smooth talk. Together they craft an upbeat anthem about embracing your own worth, being genuine, and letting love arise naturally when two confident souls meet.