I wonder if every part is sold like this?
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Üsküdar and Istanbul, this is it, everyone admires it
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No land left for children where I was born
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There are as many animals as there are humans.
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Though they burn the orchards at harvest
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He passed through the Marmara, even though they looked with his tanker
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My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet
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My assembly is always good, cry my smile, cry
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I wonder if every part is sold like this?
|
No land left for children where I was born
|
Though they burn the orchards at harvest
|
My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet
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Come harvest time bitch, give rap a price
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Don't give a damn on my rap, don't trip, go bitch
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You're so small, but you've got no rest
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Don't think you can't be without a gun, take a crane so high, ah drink
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Be my target frost, my target is always ten
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It would land in front of me like a ping pong ball
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It's my last secret, look, don't stop, get up
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Come on, light the fire, see if there's no heart left
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White fell from my hair, everywhere is smoky, misty, foggy
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Crimes hidden everywhere, hidden everywhere
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Tracers are these words
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First, it is the sentences that take the mind, make the mind shine, you spring
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There may be werewolves when the camera is full but I'm always there
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In my summer and winter, my wife will be in Üsküdar.
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If the cries can take the mind, let it be
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If Yeditepe is Istanbul, let it stay that way.
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I wonder if every part is sold like this?
|
Üsküdar and Istanbul, this is it, everyone admires it
|
No land left for children where I was born
|
There are as many animals as there are humans.
|
Though they burn the orchards at harvest
|
He passed through the Marmara, even though they looked with his tanker
|
My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet
|
My assembly is always good, cry my smile, cry
|
I wonder if every part is sold like this?
|
No land left for children where I was born
|
Though they burn the orchards at harvest
|
My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet
|
You're stiff, you're hung up
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You're under me, the ace of the horse, don't let it be the original of this century
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The front of the one who goes to war with gossip is in the chrysanthemum field
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The courage rising in front of the camera is hidden in somersaults and make-ups
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Üsküdar style also mad this curmudgeon, he used to say, tell me
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Can the streets be both hell and paradise?
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I don't know, but there is a metaphysical revolution.
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I was born, it was always a wall, I grew up and there is still a wall
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I saw fights every day; |
fear in some, blood in some
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Are they real slums or those tombs?
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Eyes with evil eyes, I think they always cry falsely
|
I wonder if every part is sold like this?
|
Üsküdar and Istanbul, this is it, everyone admires it
|
No land left for children where I was born
|
There are as many animals as there are humans.
|
Though they burn the orchards at harvest
|
He passed through the Marmara, even though they looked with his tanker
|
My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet
|
My assembly is always good, cry my smile, cry
|
I wonder if every part is sold like this?
|
No land left for children where I was born
|
Though they burn the orchards at harvest
|
My place is Üsküdar and lastly Karacaahmet |