I faced evil when I was only sixteen years old
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Many scars on my body and soul, I don't shed a tear
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The road was difficult, as you can understand, I remember it like it was yesterday
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The women's emergency room was the first to ask how I was
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The only consolation I had was that time heals all wounds
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And look at me today and where I stand
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So imagine if the world could be better and brighter like my life
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Despite everything that has happened, I try to move on, to be positive
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A guy shot another guy in my yard yesterday
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Someone got stabbed in my gate, how will the kids understand?
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What to say? |
Too bad, just completely haram
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Playing God, creating pain, killing each other
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And for what? |
For grams, black money in hand
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Blowing on a quick death until you just disappeared
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Have felt sadness, pain
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Buried several friends but I live for you all as you never return
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See all those kilos being pumped into the city
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The youth gangs a percenter, the police break the law
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Mom, Dad, kids just want to get through the day
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Family and high-rise building waiting for child benefits
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Like a normal day in the city
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Anything to fill the stomach |
Never felt beaten
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The situation is driving you crazy
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Children's song from the capital
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That's how they say seize the day, look ahead when I write the last line
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Mourning fallen angels
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In the city where I live
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All because of money
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In the city where I live
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Streets, concrete and parabola-clad facades
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Set as a backdrop to our daily habits
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Mourning fallen angels
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In the city where I live
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All because of money
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In the city where I live
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Everything the same, everything changes
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In the city where I live
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In the city where I live
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War from the first moment I came to this earth
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Rosengårds concrete that echoes these words
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Honed my rap, when the chance came, I took it
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Set eyes on the throne of the cold North
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Kumba is my name, originating from Africa
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Majestic flow far beyond the ordinary
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From my neighborhood to third world ghetto
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Kumba is heard everywhere, from Grimsta to Soweto
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Stockholm concrete was blessed by this song
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In the same way as aina greet brothers with a baton
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Hard reality like asphalt under my feet
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Dark or off-white, punished by its roots |
A lot of crap and drudgery in the city where I live
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Young people are allowed to grow up without faith in the future
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What kind of a place to live is this?
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Too many ending up as a rest in peace tattoo
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Mourning fallen angels
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All because of money
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In the city where I live
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Streets, concrete and parabola-clad facades
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Set as a backdrop to our daily habits
|
Mourning fallen angels
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In the city where I live
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All because of money
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In the city where I live
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Everything the same, everything changes
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In the city where I live
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In the city where I live
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In the city where I live |