Song meaning of Soli A Milano by Club Dogo (Ft. Elodie)

Ah, "Soli A Milano" by Club Dogo featuring Elodie, a song that captures the essence of being alone in the fashion capital of Italy. Jake La Furia kicks things off by declaring his arrival from the mist and smog, like a mystical ship from "The Fog" (cue creepy music). He's tied to the streets because that's where he's still at, proving that you can make it anywhere if you've made it in Milan. And guess what? His G's slang speaks volumes, with lines like "mogra, nogra, sese" - a secret code only understood by those in the Milanese hood. He's got a golden Madonna necklace and a golden Madonna up in heaven because why settle for one when you can have two, right? They live life on the edge, flirting with the limits and death. Jake, asking God for more time instead of just one, is the epitome of ambition. He'll come back and kick the unfaithful ones out, just like Jesus clearing out the temple. Glock in his pants, murder rates going up, people yelling "Minchia, Jake!" (which roughly translates to "Dang, Jake!"). It's like a scene straight out of a Martin Scorsese movie set in Italy. But hey, life in Milan isn't all mafia-style drama, they're just regular folks trapped in traffic like a taxi. They fuel their engines with "benzina verde" (green gasoline), because why not give the boys some empowerment? So, Milan, will you forgive them or kill them? It's your move. Elodie joins in and together with Guè, they belt out a catchy chorus about being alone in Milan, with blood in the cathedral and nowhere to escape because they always come back. The sky seems closer in Milan, and suddenly it falls on the city because, well, who needs rational explanations? They're just searching for those who will never leave them. It's a never-ending cycle, my friend. Guè jumps in with his rhyme finesse, claiming he'll never be infamous, he's a samurai of codes. He can't make those who truly care about him stay, and the city's streets flow through his veins (ouch, that must hurt). Every word he spits is like a gunshot, reminiscent of Subsonica (rock band alert!). While others embarrass themselves, Guè's figure is purely rhetorical, like a badass poetry professor. On these streets, they take a test and get flunked in their exams, while poets' bodies lie lifeless. It's a generation that's apathetic, if the music is plastic (ouch, calling out some pop stars there). Milan chews you up and spits you out, baby! The wheels keep turning, and danger is their middle name. Unfortunately, the GPS doesn't offer the route to salvation, but don't worry, he's got verses so real he wants to dedicate them to those with shattered dreams who can't figure them out. He's also looking for the saints, but doesn't know how to address them. Deep stuff, my friend. And Elodie wraps things up by reminding us that there's nothing strange about this night, nothing remains of them except their solitude in Milan. Blood in the cathedral, nowhere to escape, always returning. The sky is so close that it suddenly falls. They're searching for those who will never leave, because what you want from here will never leave. Stay here with those who believe. So, there you have it, a beautifully lonely journey through the streets of Milan. It's like Dante's Inferno, but with a hip-hop twist. Enjoy!