3 Drags Lyrics Translated to English - Vichaar

3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up

Three drags (likely of a joint) have messed me up badly—repeated for emphasis to show the intensity of the high.

Bitch I’m at your neck jaise mangal sutra
Block pe jab spin karu, whip lage doosraaa
Har gaana bhajan sa, ye microphone nahi chook raha
Shayar ke sheron se paala, padta jungle koodra

I’m on your neck like a mangalsutra (close and tight). When I spin through the block, the car looks different each time. Every track is devotional like a bhajan; I never miss when I’m on the mic. I was raised on poets’ verses but had to jump into the wild (hard life).

Badi BT, to badi beedi ka tu pura bundle fookra
Woh kareebi nahi jo kare pity, aur bole halaaton se jhuch raha
PUIA ki beat hai delicacy, I’m here to eat to thus raha
Pop corny rapper hote, jab karte Act 2, bruh

When there’s big trouble, I smoke entire bundles of beedis. Real ones don’t feel pity; they know I’m fighting through situations. PUIA’s beat is a treat — and I’m devouring it. Those pop rappers become corny like Act II popcorn.

Saade log bharoon bade tote mein
Leke bade note, dill kholkar mila chain
Henny-Coke saath heavy tok
Rakhu bud-hi close, karein topple tera gang

My guys fill big bags with cash, carrying big notes and finding peace with open hearts. Sipping Henny-Coke and taking heavy tokes, I keep my bud close — we’re ready to topple your entire crew.

Main nahi goat, lekin badi khoj
Leke gehri soch, kara chaupat tera plan
Heavy coat pehne, heliport pe
Karu teleport, phir chopper kare bang

I’m not claiming to be the GOAT, but I’m a big discovery. With deep thoughts, I ruin your plans. Wearing a heavy coat at the heliport, I teleport — and my chopper blasts off.

Betich*d Aaye din mile peti-chor**
Tabhi dhan chhupaata bin peti coat
Kala aisi ki koi hai ni quote
Kaala paisa kare peddi score

Damn, every day I come across petty thieves. That’s why I hide wealth without even using a briefcase. My art is so original, it has no quote. I turn black money into big scores.

Hisaab se baat kar pehle to
Pehli kamaai jaati daddy ko
Bacha Gandhi jaata baddie ko
Hoton par lagakar Fenny ko, funny vo

Talk business properly first. My first earnings went to my dad. Whatever’s left (Gandhi = currency) goes to the baddie, who sips Fenny and behaves playfully.

Karaake manicure, sune kisi ki na behri vo
Chahe main duba du, nashe si lage woh Marie Gold
Puri raat telephone pe chipkaake kaan, bin Fevicol
Vaise to ghaayal kare woh ishaaron se,
Lekin jab suna maine gaur se — badi bore

With manicured nails, she doesn’t listen to anyone — like she’s deaf. Even if I drown her, she feels like a high — like a Marie Gold cigarette. She’s stuck to the phone all night like glue, even without Fevicol. Though her gestures are attractive, when I listened carefully, she turned out to be boring.

I might just bang a whore in Bangalore
Par chahiye ni Silicone Valley
Karu ni tag along, I stand alone
Ek haath se bajata taali

I might hook up with someone in Bangalore, but I’m not looking for fake (silicone-filled) people. I don’t tag along — I stand on my own. I can clap with one hand (I’m that self-sufficient).

Bahara jab bank account
To badal la tone, ab raaton mein hori qawwali
Bhai, ismein meri kya galti
Ki teri wali meri story lag rahi?

When the bank account got filled, people changed their tone — now they sing qawwali at night. Bro, how is it my fault that your girl seems like a part of my story?

You trippin dawg
Le kar le dolo pop
Yeh choose — khoon mera
Badan pe Odomos

You’re tripping, bro — go pop a painkiller. You choose this life — my blood’s on fire. I’ve got Odomos on me (repelling all bugs — meaning haters or problems).

Qafan pe Molotov
Tu jalega when the solo drops
Role ho flop, got that chrome tucked
Jaise Robocop

Molotovs on the shroud — you’ll burn when my solo track drops. If your role flops, I’ve got my chrome (gun) hidden like Robocop.

Seeng maarne aaye saikdon mein
Lehraate laal rumaal, main matador hoon matteron mein
Utaara baal ki khaal, to contract se cancel ho gaye
Main maaru pocket, haath hai bharte ladke jacketon mein

Hundreds came charging like bulls. Red scarves wave — I’m the matador in the chaos. I exposed the truth (like skin off a hair), and they got canceled from contracts. I steal pockets while my boys are filling their jackets.

3 drags bade qartab
3 drags kare sarr thapp
3 drags bade qartab
3 drags lage harr waqt

Three drags bring wild tricks. Three drags smack the head. These drags are doing stunts nonstop — always hitting hard.

3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up
3 drags got me fucked up

Three drags have completely messed me up — repeated to show the intense and ongoing effect.