Coltellino (feat. Baby Gang)

Yalalay, yalalay (I came up with this lyric)
Yalalay, yalalay (My head's in America but I'm still here)
Yalalay, yalalay (We suffer, mama, oh mama)
Yalalay, yalalay (For this life, I was under)
Yalalay, yalalay
Yalalay, yalalay
Yalalay, yalalay
Yalalay, yalalay

Yalalay, yalalay (Brother, everything passes)
Yalalay, yalalay (Morocco like Colombia)
Yalalay, yalalay (It's NPT that rules)
Yalalay, yalalay (I roll solo, no backup)
Yalalay, yalalay (In every block, every block)
Yalalay, yalalay (I don’t see, I feel, and I don’t talk)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a cell to a stage)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a stage to a cell)

Yalalay, le-le-le, le-le-le
White nights and black nights
Crazy city, yeah, yeah
Everything comes back, whether it's good or bad
End up on 'Who’s Seen It?'
Where did I end up? Probably in Copacabana
Wanna hang with Baby? You know you're taking a risk
Either you get arrested, or someone shoots you
I never have problems, but unfortunately, I get involved
In other people's issues 'cause I ain't scared of the bad
I'm more afraid of the judgment
That they might give me, or not even that, it doesn't matter

I came up with this lyric
My head's in America but I'm still here
We suffer, mama, oh mama
For this life, I was under

Yalalay, yalalay (Brother, everything passes)
Yalalay, yalalay (Morocco like Colombia)
Yalalay, yalalay (It's NPT that rules)
Yalalay, yalalay (I roll solo, no backup)
Yalalay, yalalay (In every block, every block)
Yalalay, yalalay (I don’t see, I feel, and I don’t talk)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a cell to a stage)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a stage to a cell)

Goodfellas, the land of Al Capone
Little knife, I sharpen it in my bag
Gucci on the receipt, close to Carcassonne
Candy-coated, under the sunshade
You in life, a disguised warrior, far from the zone
When you were just reviewing, you were hitting the heart
A rebel known on the Champs-Elysées, respected in your zone
Who said one day I’d sell albums on Amazon?
In the era of Zeljko, I was moving the goods with an escort
For green bills like Zelda from Casa to Düsseldorf
In rap, Usain Bolt, of course, I was breaking my scores
Every track I have is fresh, and I still haven’t seen the best-of
Just holding onto the hope of Moroccan rap without a curse
I dose people like ecstasy, everywhere I fill my spots
Freedom for Esco, cheers to all the expats
And screw all the ex-bosses, and screw all the ex-friends

Just looking at that dog face of yours
The way you talk, it’s clear you’re a punk (Punk)
I don’t deal with junkies and whores
I’d rather hang out with the kids (Kids)
And tell them when we were broke
For a few bucks, we took the risks (Risks)
Even without having anything in our pockets
We were, yeah, happy, now rich and sad faces (Sad)

Yalalay, yalalay (Brother, everything passes)
Yalalay, yalalay (Morocco like Colombia)
Yalalay, yalalay (It's NPT that rules)
Yalalay, yalalay (I roll solo, no backup)
Yalalay, yalalay (In every block, every block)
Yalalay, yalalay (I don’t see, I feel, and I don’t talk)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a cell to a stage)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a stage to a cell)

Yalalay, yalalay (Brother, everything passes)
Yalalay, yalalay (Morocco like Colombia)
Yalalay, yalalay (It's NPT that rules)
Yalalay, yalalay (I roll solo, no backup)
Yalalay, yalalay (In every block, every block)
Yalalay, yalalay (I don’t see, I feel, and I don’t talk)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a cell to a stage)
Yalalay, yalalay (From a stage to a cell)