| Yo, this one here goes out to the struggle
|
| In the tradition of the old poets
|
| Yo, the nation of poets
|
| We haven’t forgotten that
|
| Yo, in the tradition of, God bless his soul
|
| I want to say something to you, my friends around the mic
|
| Until the lion learns to speak
|
| The tales of hunting will be weak
|
| My poetry hails within the streets
|
| My poetry fails to be discrete
|
| It travels across the earth and seas
|
| From Eritrea to the West Indies
|
| It knows no boundaries
|
| No cheese
|
| It studied in parts of Greece
|
| (runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| I am sick as far as lyrics
|
| And with this far as gimmicks
|
| I spit par age and limit
|
| The shit they talk and rip it
|
| I am hip the hop as living
|
| I skip the obvious woman
|
| Don’t get what I am presenting
|
| No rims my mind spinning
|
| (runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| I was born and raised in a place
|
| Where torn of flame would place
|
| Where the foreigners not embrace
|
| Where they warn you jog and pace
|
| Where loners lower they gaze
|
| Where the corners slow at a chase
|
| Where they tarts and turn in the maze
|
| With the pistol upon your face
|
| (runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| So come with me to my longs
|
| The death and deal we run
|
| With passion see how I come
|
| No cash I am free in the slums
|
| The past can we overcome
|
| I am asking we be the ones
|
| To actually be the ones
|
| To free our people from gun
|
| (hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| I was born and raised in a place
|
| Where torn of flame would place
|
| Where the foreigners not embrace
|
| Where they warn you jog and pace
|
| Where loners low what they gaze
|
| Where the corners slow at a chase
|
| Where they tarts and turn in the maze
|
| With the pistol upon your face
|
| (runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| So come with me to my longs
|
| The death and deal we run
|
| With passion see how I come
|
| No cash I am free in the slums
|
| The past can we overcome
|
| I am asking we be the ones
|
| To free our people from gun
|
| (hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
|
| Until the lion learns to speak
|
| The tales of hunting will be weak
|
| My poetry hales with in the streets
|
| My poetry fails to be discrete
|
| It travels across the earth and seas
|
| From Somalia to the West Indies
|
| It knows no boundaries
|
| No cheese
|
| It studied in parts of Greece
|
| (Hadii kale waxaan lahaa aheey)
|
| Say I am sick as far as lyrics
|
| And with this far as gimmicks
|
| I spit par age and limit
|
| The shit they talk in rapid
|
| I am hip the hop as living
|
| I skip the obvious woman
|
| Don’t get what I am presenting
|
| No rims my mind spinning
|
| (runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey) |