Brazuca Lyrics in English Gabriel O Pensador

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Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Brazuca by Gabriel O Pensador from Portuguese to English.

Soccer? Soccer isn't learned at school

Verse 1

In the country of soccer the sun rises for everybody

But it only shines for a few

And it shone through the window of the favela shack

Where this boy named Brazuca lived

Who didn't even have food in the pot

But did keepie-uppies on his shins

And drove the crowd crazy

He was young and they already said he was the new Pelé

Who did whatever he wanted with a ball at his foot

Who took free kicks way better than Zico and Maradona

And dribbled way better than Mané, that's right

And Brazuca grew up

Arousing interest in agents

And envy in the suckers

Including his brother

Who has a Romário poster in the closet

But plays ball f*cking badly

His name's Zé Batalha

And since he was little he's worked to earn a crumb

That feeds his mom and his little brother

Neither of them studied

Because there's no education for the people

In the country of soccer

You don't learn soccer at school

That's why Brazuca's good with the ball

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Enough of taking a beating

His shin is swollen and the ref doesn't see it

Enough of this sham

The jersey's soaked from so much running

Enough of square balls

This rule's wrong, let's redo it

Enough of taking a beating

The crowd's tired of losing

Verse 2

In the country of soccer almost everything goes wrong

But Brazuca's good with the ball, he's already turned pro

State champion, Brazilian champion

He went to play for the national team, got to know the whole world

And the whole world met Brazuca wearing the ten

Bossing the midfield like someone plays pool with his feet

With calm, with class, without missing a pass

Which also made his transfer price go up

And today he's the best-paid star in Europe

Captain of the national team, he's there at the Cup

While his brother, Zé Batalha, and all his crowd

The rabble in the favela he came from just works

Sweating through their shirts, thrown to the sideline

Trying to pull off a move prettier than the grass he carries in his lunchbox

Injured from so much beating

Mistaken for a crook

Offside, you can stop

Don't complain or you'll get a red card

Zé Batalha under machine-gun sights, on his knees

Trying to explain himself with a revolver to his neck

I'm a worker, I'm Brazuca's brother!

Verse 2

He prays, holds his breath

And over at the Cup, a penalty for the national team

Ball on the spot, Brazuca will take it

Finger on the trigger, Zé Batalha's gonna die

Ref blew the whistle

Everything just as it had to be

Verse 2

There's another goal and Brazil's champion

There's another body stretched on the ground

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Enough of taking a beating

His shin is swollen and the ref doesn't see it

Enough of this sham

The jersey's soaked from so much running

Enough of square balls

This rule's wrong, let's redo it

Enough of taking a beating

The crowd's tired of losing

Verse 3

The country was happy after that goal

Everybody satisfied, everybody hugged

Lots of people even cried with the celebration

Proud to live in this champion country

And in the favela, the next day, nobody works

It's the day to bury what's left of Zé Batalha

But nobody's there to carry the body

Nor to say a prayer for the dead

Everybody's holding a flag

Waiting for the national team at the airport

Champion!

Champion of hypocrisy, of violence, of humiliation

Verse 3

Champion!

Of cowardice and misery, corruption

Verse 3

Champion!

Of ignorance, of despair, malnutrition

Verse 3

Champion!

Of abandonment, hunger and prostitution

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Brazuca's good with the ball, Brazuca owns the show

Zé Batalha just works, Zé Batalha just busts his ass

Enough of taking a beating

His shin is swollen and the ref doesn't see it

Enough of this sham

The jersey's soaked from so much running

Enough of square balls

This rule's wrong, let's redo it

Enough of taking a beating

The crowd's tired of losing

Enough of taking a beating

His shin is swollen and the ref doesn't see it

Enough of this sham

The jersey's soaked from so much running

Enough of square balls

This rule's wrong, let's redo it

Enough of taking a beating

The crowd's tired of losing

Champion!

Enough of taking a beating!

Did you like these lyrics?

SONG MEANING

Welcome to the "country of football," where a magic touch on the ball can look like a ticket to paradise... at least on TV. Gabriel O Pensador tells the story of Brazuca, a kid from the favela who juggles a ball on his shins while his mother’s cooking pot is empty. His talent dazzles scouts, wins titles, and makes the whole nation cheer when he scores the decisive World Cup goal. Yet only a few blocks away, his hard-working brother Zé Batalha is sweating for pennies, caught between crime, police violence, and hopeless jobs. As the stadium roars É campeão! the favela buries Zé in silence.

The song is a sharp, ironic look at Brazil’s love affair with football and the social gap it can hide. While Brazuca “deita e rola” – shows off and rolls to glory – millions keep “levando porrada,” taking hits nobody whistles. O Pensador mixes catchy chants with hard-hitting verses to expose hypocrisy, corruption, and inequality. The chorus might make you want to chant along, but every line asks you to rethink the rules of the game and imagine a fairer match for everyone.

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Gabriel O Pensador Brazuca Lyrics