| I don't worship the street
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| She's done me more harm than good but I still love her
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| 'Cause I don't forget where I come from
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| I represent the big-hearted thugs and the good people, everyone has their faults
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| I only look at the qualities of my brothers
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| Dedicated to those who appreciate me
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| To those who hate me
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| God tries me and tests me
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| I'm a man and I cash
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| I take pleasure in singing for those who love me very much
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| I fuck traitors what doesn't kill makes you stronger
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| I speak the real street the little ones who have nothing to rayave
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| The depressive smicards and the darons who pray in the cellars
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| Turn up the sound in the post
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| If it touches you it's because you have a heart, we all have the same troubles,
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| the same tests
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| I do this with the heart without neglecting my record
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| For brethren are in darkness and vice everywhere
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| Turn the sisters in torment look for prince charming
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| Victims of their weakness some end up in spins
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| Hands dirty like The Rat let's wash them
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| The borders that separate us from the good we will brave
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| Taver them, eat clichés that we're going to upset
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| Only my father I strongly believe in it tell me if I'm dreaming
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| It's the song of those who raise their heads those who are too quickly forgotten
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| Who have dreams and who don't wait for us to reach out Those who
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| cling to hope despite the torments
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| Those who keep their spirits up and watch for happiness around the corner
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| For all the single women who bravely raise their kids
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| And those who stay locked up in a cage
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| This is the song of the brave
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| We'll see the sun after the storm
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| Don't give a fuck what people will say
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| When I was alone there was nobody but my blood
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| I drew strength from my people
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| My weaknesses, I drew them from others
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| Stupidly attaching myself to bitches that ain't worth much
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| Don't take this rage for hate, I have love to sell
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| Friends and brothers to love
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| Enemies to hang
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| I wasted love giving it to anybody
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| Wasting friendship because in fact I didn't know how to skittle
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| My voice in the slaps, I decompress a max
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| How to trust people, they fuck you for a pair of Air Max
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| Our steps have no peace
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| I fight my war for the fuck
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| Love is bought expensive whores in windows in Bucharest
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| The other trace bundles and I take a nap
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| It's time for me to move, to go to the conquest of the cents
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| They want to kill my dreams but they don't know the rage inside me
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| If misery flirts with me yeah I'll take out my dick
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| The big bundles, all that fascinates me
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| My fondness for those who shine makes me easy prey
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| Raise your glass to my health
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| I enjoy singing about my shitty life that only interests the dogs
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| I dream of gold bars
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| We believed in gold
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| But the shit in the eyes I woke up at dawn
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| They want me to please the kids, I'm not here to sell dreams, my friend
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| Even less to sell to the poor
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| It's the song of those who raise their heads those who are too quickly forgotten
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| Who have dreams and who don't wait for us to reach out Those who
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| cling to hope despite the torments
|
| Those who keep their spirits up and watch for happiness around the corner
|
| For all the single women who bravely raise their kids
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| And those who stay locked up in a cage
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| This is the song of the brave
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| We'll see the sun after the storm |