I swear to you, by my dead grandfather,
Eventhough i'm not quite into that thing
That no one has ever knew how to play
the accordion
such as our Ibro Dirka
Once the party started, and once he started to play
He hasn't even got time to say bismillah*
He would shake his head and break the glasses
Ibro would bring you into sevdah**
But quickly, people from the industry heard about Ibro
And started to snoop around in our hood
Every one of them started to bring Ibro drinks
Every one of them started to compliment Ibro
Ibro started to talk about money and sucess
We told him 'Ibro don't be silly
You're special
You cure people with your music
In the industry everything is fake
Everything is fake'
-'I just have to tell you a bit about Ibro
Once, a mercedes came to pick him up and he left
Yes, yes
He went on with the pro's and became famous
There he is, i saw him on a picture
He took a photo with both Halid's ***'
-'Yeah, i've heard that,
He was with Brena****'
-'Boy, he has the best girls,
One of them wore a badge just so he could know where the front of her body was. And now he has two new ones'
- 'Waiter, give us two beers, and please tell the singer to be a bit more quiet'
-'Yes I know, he's a witty person, he lets everyone play him, everyone, i mean those managers'
-'They used him'
-'Would you let that happen?'
- 'No it's not that, they don't let him play sevdah anymore'
-'You think?'
-'For sure'
-'These are hard times'
-'Yes, man, people are looking for upbeat music,
Who would listen to others problems'
But one morning Ibro came to the neighbourhood alone
He looked like Gary Cooper, everything felt like a dream
There was no sign of sadness left on his face
The neighbourhood, sevdah, Ibro just couldn't forget it
Ibro didn't want the money anymore
Ibro will always remain a bady
Some immediatley stared to blame Ibro
But only the real ones
Knew what really had happend
Ibro isn't a bady, man
Ibro is the meaning of an artist