At sunset, the streets are deserted again
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Wine-aholics and knives chasing money
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The fist speaks in the morning, the notes of the gun in my nights
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A deep salute in the mornings, the exemplary effect of death in the newspapers
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Heroic men created in the mafia universe
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Sins earned with tribute (Sin!)
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The cries of all the drunks lined up in front of my house and the ineffective acts of the police
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Is it my security or my self sweating at the moment of execution?
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The fruit of violence was eaten by my hatred, and we grinned, joining all this destruction.
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You know my action will turn into a verb with my rap
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The ignorance of the bears coming down from the mountain was responded to with a visa
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Kondular brought the concrete
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Prime give my nature back instead of a subway!
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My culture is a bastard, petition for an apology!
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I was tomorrow, but you took my today from me
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I became ashamed of my identity, Turkey is not here
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Always miserable looks nine out of ten psychos
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Turns 3 in 24 hours you-death-life!
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You are not a virgin in the whorehouse of the world, there are rapists
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My eyes are also in the pouring rain, my heart has been the keeper of the crisis
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Burn it, let me tell my problem to my cigarette, let it be smoke, this is my rap
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As I wandered helplessly, my tears grew old
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Black expression in my eyes, that innocence that cannot be exploited
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I am a whole with all my lyrics that you can't see in your face
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Smoke tobacco author draws stilo. |
My loyalty is buried in my tongue
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"Shush!" |
I didn't say. |
Bird! |
There is no reward for sins Yunus
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Pioneer of the tearful look while dancing in shackles
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In every venerable scrawny vegetation familiar in its vicious cycle
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In every venerable undersized vegetation that is familiar
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Fear of the earthquake in the vicinity and check their knowledge, and don't ask too many questions!
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I'm already out of mood, put the sick man to bed now
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A thousand centuries old guard has not left blood in my country's veins, some of you some
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Watching from the top, their stolen, stolen ambitions
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Hear the silent pleas of my eyes, come on!
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You are not a virgin in the whorehouse of the world, there are rapists
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My eyes are also in the pouring rain, my heart has been the keeper of the crisis
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Burn it, let me tell my problem to my cigarette, let it be smoke, this is my rap
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As I wandered helplessly, my tears grew old
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Rap Genius Turkey |