Translation of the song lyrics Tiripe Ma 2 - Hichkas, Reveal

Tiripe Ma 2 (original)

هیچکس و ریویل:؛
تیریپ ما ۲؛
روشنفکرای خیابونی
بودیم گاهی‌ حافظ، گاهی‌ رومی
می‌ و نی‌ و حوری، صیقل روحی
گاهی‌ فردوسی‌ با چند تا خط خونی
بذار واست تصویر سازی کنم، مثلاً اینجوری:؛
بعضی‌ وقتا کسی کنه جیک جیک، می‌ریزه خون چیک چیک
ماشینا بیب بیب… خانوما جیغ جیغ…؛
مامورا می‌ریزن و میگ میگ…؛
میپیچن به بازی همه.
می‌گیرن گل
میشینن، میپیچن، می‌بینن شوک
تیریپم جرم
چون جوری زندگی‌ می‌کنم که انگار می‌میرم صبح
ظهر محشرم.
جواهر رو ول کن من خود معدنم
حق کلی‌ آدم گردنم.
آویزه گوشم هرچی‌ پیرا حرف زدن
یه چند باری هم بهم دستبند زدن
اینه تیریپ ما، باقی‌ ول معطلن
ایـــــنـــــه تـــــیـــــریـــــپ مـــــا
بعد چند وقت یه آهنگ مشتی شیرینه، ها؟؛
بیا
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
Put your hands in the air, like you’re getting jacked by gunmen
Never thought you’d see me with Hichkas in London
From local to global the raps gonna function
Connect with criminal heads like trunchons
London where they buss guns for the lump sums
Corrupted from young if the slums where you come from
Rule number ones real simple: trust none
Check your history 'cos we living in a dungeon
London blood flows cold like the river Thames
So the chip on my shoulders as Big as Ben
On the roads youths cold and indifferent
Opposing soldiers patrolling in different ends
I was born in Iran but I grew up
In a city where the sun acted like he never knew us
A Bipolar town with several faces
Religious extremists and EDL racists
Home of corrupt bankers and thug gangsters
Not all of them are real though, nuff of them are wankers
We got everything you need on the street
Trees bear strange fruit like Amnesia and Cheese
Home of the shankman, home of the shooter
Overnight became home of the looter
Home to the Homeless home of the Hustlers
Must be a Londoner, 'cos I’m in love with her
ایـــــنـــــه تـــــیـــــریـــــپ مـــــا
بعد چند وقت یه آهنگ مشتی شیرینه، ها؟؛
بیا
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
ایـــــنـــــه تـــــیـــــریـــــپ مـــــا
راه که میریم دیگه سنگین نیست، آسفالت جر می‌دیم و
باج نمی‌دیم هیچوقت به هیچکس تا بمیریم
Never settling.
Going for the gold medal in anything that I meddle in
Hardcore shit, Start war shit, Bunch of Gully Irani’s who buss the car door
quick
Your click on some Carte D’or shit.
Fam too sweet, too moist, you’re trying to
force it
قرصه دل، ولی‌ فقط واسه شب ۱۴ نی
عالمی دارن مینالن.
این، ماییم که می‌زنیم حرف به وقتش
تنها چیزی که نداریم هم حد و مرزه
I slam them rap yea, Original Rudeboy, Established mad breh
The city gets different when it’s dark don
Cats on that Top Gear, I call 'em Clarkson
This is how we do things, This is how we moving
London to Tehran and back, no refuelling
میونه نداریم با حرف مفت و حاجیت هرچی‌ گفت معنی‌ کن
می‌فهمی ارزش داره، کم کم چند ملیونه
Spitting something new here, Tell 'em how we do yea
ایـــــنـــــه تـــــیـــــریـــــپ مـــــا
بعد چند وقت یه آهنگ مشتی شیرینه، ها؟؛
بیا
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
ایـــــنـــــه تـــــیـــــریـــــپ مـــــا

Tiripe Ma 2 (translation)

Nobody and Reville :;
Our type 2;
Street intellectuals
We were sometimes Hafez, sometimes Roman
Fruits, nipples and nymphs, spiritual polish
Sometimes Ferdowsi with a few bloodlines
Let me illustrate, for example:;
Sometimes, when someone chirps, he bleeds
Machine Baby Baby… Lady Scream Scream…;
The agents fall and Mig Mig…;
Turn to play everyone.
They take flowers
They sit, they twist, they see the shock
My type of crime
Because I live as if I were dying in the morning
Noon.
Drop the jewelry, I'm mine myself
The right of all my neck.
I listen to everything
Handcuffing me a few times
This is our trip, the rest is delayed
This is our shooting range.
How long after a sweet fist song, huh ?;
Come on
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
Put your hands in the air, like you’re getting jacked by gunmen
Never thought you’d see me with Hichkas in London
From local to global the raps gonna function
Connect with criminal heads like trunchons
London where they buss guns for the lump sums
Corrupted from young if the slums where you come from
Rule number ones real simple: trust none
Check your history 'cos we living in a dungeon
London blood flows cold like the river Thames
So the chip on my shoulders as Big as Ben
On the roads youths cold and indifferent
Opposing soldiers patrolling in different ends
I was born in Iran but I grew up
In a city where the sun acted like he never knew us
A Bipolar town with several faces
Religious extremists and EDL racists
Home of corrupt bankers and thug gangsters
Not all of them are real though, nuff of them are wankers
We got everything you need on the street
Trees bear strange fruit like Amnesia and Cheese
Home of the shankman, home of the shooter
Overnight became home of the looter
Home to the Homeless home of the Hustlers
Must be a Londoner, 'cos I’m in love with her
This is our shooting range.
How long after a sweet fist song, huh ?;
Come on
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
This is our shooting range.
The road we are going on is no longer heavy, we are paving the asphalt and
We never ransom anyone until we die
Never settling.
Going for the gold medal in anything that I meddle in
Hardcore shit, Start war shit, Bunch of Gully Irani’s who buss the car door
quick
Your click on some Carte D’or shit.
Fam too sweet, too moist, you’re trying to
force it
Heart pill, but only for the night of 14
They have a world of minals.
This is what we are talking about in due course
The only thing we do not have is the limit
I slam them rap yea, Original Rudeboy, Established mad breh
The city gets different when it’s dark don
Cats on that Top Gear, I call 'em Clarkson
This is how we do things, This is how we moving
London to Tehran and back, no refuelling
We do not have the means to say anything with free speech and need
You see, it's worth millions
Spitting something new here, Tell 'em how we do yea
This is our shooting range.
How long after a sweet fist song, huh ?;
Come on
This is how we rolling, this is how we moving
Missing for a minute now we back on them movement
Spitting something new here, tell them how we do yeah
This is our shooting range.