Niño Bien

Well-off kid, pretentious and full of himself,
Who has a fancy for showing off;
Well-off kid who carries two last names
And uses the petit bar as his desk;
Poser who pretends to be distinguished
And always talks about his dad's ranch,
While your old man, to make ends meet,
Goes out every day to sell pizza.

You think that because you talk about yourself,
Smoke English tobacco,
Stroll around Sarandí,
And trim your sideburns like Rodolfo,
You're a snob.
Because you wear a crimson tie
And over at the chantecler
You act like a dancer,
And you boast about your hair gel,
You think you're a big shot
But you're just a poor fool.

Well-off kid, born in the suburbs
In a kerosene-lit hovel,
With a rather murky pedigree
And claiming to be from a good family,
You don't realize you're showing your true colors
And as you walk with a triumphant air
It's quite clear that you have a lot of class
To show off behind a counter.