- published: 24 Jan 2016
- views: 146
Coordinates: 47°N 29°E / 47°N 29°E / 47; 29
Moldova (i/mɒlˈdoʊvə, mɔːl-/ or sometimes UK /ˈmɒldəvə/. Romanian: [molˈdova]), officially the Republic of Moldova (Romanian: Republica Moldova, listen ), is a landlocked country in Eastern Europe, bordered by Romania to the west and Ukraine to the north, east, and south. The capital city is Chișinău.
Moldova declared independence on August 27, 1991 as part of the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The current Constitution of Moldova was adopted in 1994. A strip of Moldovan territory on the east bank of the river Dniester has been under the de facto control of the breakaway government of Transnistria since 1990.
Due to a decrease in industrial and agricultural output following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the service sector has grown to dominate Moldova's economy and currently composes over 60% of the nation's GDP. However, Moldova remains the poorest country in Europe.
Moldova is a parliamentary republic with a president as head of state and a prime minister as head of government. It is a member state of the United Nations, the Council of Europe, the World Trade Organization (WTO), the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the GUAM Organization for Democracy and Economic Development, the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) and the Organization of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation (BSEC) and aspires to join the European Union.
Pocas palabras para tu gente
No hay mucho que decir tu problema es urgente
Sigues pensando que estas en la cima
Y a toda tu raza ya la tienes encima
Sales a la calle en tu carro del año
Y tomas sin hielo para no hacerte daño
Pasas la vida solito como un perro
Pagando tu karma por ser tan culero
Maldices, criticas, te tiras a matar
Tu y tus maldiciones se la van a pelar
Ya no te escucho necesito que grites
Poco a poquito para que no te de gripe
Estribillo
Pocas palabras, si me quieres humillar
Pocas palabras, si me quieres escupir
Pocas palabras, ay, para hacerte enojar
Pocas palabras, muy pocas palabras
Antes gozabas de fama y riqueza
Ahora buscas chamba por la marquesa
Sereno moreno, quieto prieto
Te digo las cosas, te pones violento
No vayas a llorar por lo que te digo
No vayas a pensar que eres mi enemigo
Estas son de las cosas que todos sabemos
Si nos queda el saco, nos lo ponemos
Se acaba mi verso, mi naco corrido
Se acaba el milenio mi querido amigo
No sigas peleando, por favor no me grites
Por mas que lo intentes, no puedo oirte