Give the sound to the end, give the sound to the end
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This is my day and every Saturday
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The unwavering quality of my style
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The bar of work is beyond the clouds
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What pes? |
My enthusiasm has just come
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Let the rhythm gang lay the notes in your head
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The corner of the streets is the joy of us
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Stamp of my 808 company
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This and every Saturday the beast in me has a night party
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Give it to the end because the rhythm is life support for me
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The support unit is right, you're after me
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Please don't let the music stop for me to breathe
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Give the sound to the end, give the sound to the end
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Where we are beyond the rhythm
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We burned a Marlboro, broken bed
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Our game without rules wins
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Supposedly tough, supposedly no different from Rambo
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But the tare falls and hits the feet on the bumper.
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High pressure, blood fills the brains
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Lira, Euro, Sterling and American dollar
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A little bit of fame and a stick
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A generation lost in the arms of prostitutes
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And it's not my privacy that is disabled right now, even my bedroom.
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This also partially creates paranoia
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«Gold digger» couldn't take me head-to-cola
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The butcher knows how to cut meat.
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You run to the marathon and fall into the police station
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You can't be without your hands, Maradona
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We entered your harbor, your boat capsized
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If we are in the game, your dreams will fall, Yakamoza |