| Even if you don't understand, they will tell you as much
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| Those who grab space on the left have rap slings in their hands
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| In the end, it's their flirty lines
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| The events remind
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| The divorced world, the divorced the bullet
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| If it didn't happen, would I say it did?
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| The day I gave this empty bullet to its magazine
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| The day I pierced your dress I came back
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| The stage of Turkish Rap was before 2000
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| You are fake of Turkish Rap, artist of Turkish Rap
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| All these children and their whims
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| Pray for my every record, you don't know brother
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| His Rashness, the Mic Scalpel, the mausoleum of the colpas
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| Even if you're not a nigga, you take a bullet
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| You're east, you're Bosphorus, on the other hand you're a bitch
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| When you see this face, let your hands be bastard fists
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| Don't be wrong, your installment will be your arm, don't get tired
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| Those who can't fill their stomachs are tyrants
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| Those who take the place with bingo, bags in their hands
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| Hands on with horns, playful in a quiet place
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| The three clans, the 90s, even if you fear them all
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| Don't think that Salvo isn't there with Brother Baran Mafsal
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| On the left, on the right, my brothers without ID
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| They jump out of my head, I have a bow and arrow in both hands
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| Your group comes with an apple on your head and a halvan for two months with Elvan.
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| Heja waves from there
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| Seas in the throat, dreams in my eyes
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| 9 Live grass does not wrap, worlds in my head
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| You write Myspace, next to it Salvo diss
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| Then you stop and wait maybe Sansi will diss
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| Murat K does business as Sansi Salvo diss
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| And all these Kolpas also get a job from Murat K.
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| All comers land in your ass
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| Of course all the lies, they're fighting in my mind
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| I am legend, my words became like them
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| 3.57 in my waist, cigarette in my hand |