Black Uruhu

Yeah, my real Bomba Club Canovelles City volume eight
This is the music from the air, my dudes, yeah, man

Oh, I’m back, I’m vibing, yeah, hey

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, yeah
Hey, hey, hey

Broken microphone, mystic global sound, the rhythm of soul
Just me in my head, living inside Babylon

I dreamed that everything would change
I thought about fighting cold-blooded without losing faith
Living day by day. You go with the feeling that marked my symphony

Give bread to those who can’t eat, give blessings to those who know how to rise again
We make three thousand mistakes
But only a great man will know how to own them

And I realized so many things
Some harsh, others quite beautiful
They are the wisest, powerful people
Not those bastards who tear apart our prose

In the downfall, a bad situation
Staining your heart with your bad actions
Give me a reason to give you my forgiveness
I feel your soul burning like the smoke from this blunt

I spill poetry
Art is the message I claim every day
I try to be sincere, but I share my joy
With every gentleman who keeps the pressure when we’re below zero

Lost feelings with calm, bad deeds stained your soul
No one asks for forgiveness who pulls the trigger
Doesn’t know that a thief battles with karma

Broken microphone, mystic global sound, the rhythm of soul
Just me in my head, living inside Babylon

Once again, respect from volume eight, my dudes, on volume eight
This is Kion Studio, respect
Alright, alright, alright

Bad boy kills, criminal of sound is rich, money is a gun for me
Respect the nation, belonging in times like this

Bad boy kills, criminal of sound is rich, money is a gun for me
Respect the nation, oh, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

When I’m smoking from the Kion studio

I wanna gun and Pure Negga on the flow
When a liva liva liva liva liva sound