We have a garden with
On one side flowers, on the other a desert
On one side a rainbow, on the other a desert
We’re those who’re stuck on the border
Hep s?n?fta kalm?slardan cok uzaktay?z; We’re far away from those who always failed
S?k?nt? cekmislere yak?n bir yerde. Close to those who’ve suffered
Victories achieved on the desert
All of them are written with blood
If u weren’t stupid ; ‘humanity’
All victories would have been achieved amicable
From every sun raise to every sunset
From every night to day there is a crime that’s being committed
We have our garden everywhere
God, there used to be prayed for you to solve sorrow
There is no use! This is very bad…
there is no cure! This is a curse…
Like it wasn’t there in the beginning
Let it be
Sagopa and Ceza in my universe
bonds for rap
my muses
my tired hands
and your musk is a gift along my mind
Im entrusted to this body
my years gave me an authority
Action became reaction
I was a flower in my own boundaries, I was purple
I filled so many fields
I was a daybreak
On a ripped sheet of a calendar hanging on a soldier’s wall
I’ve became the left hope numbers
I’m right where I want to be
Give me a few minutes, this guy can’t talk
I’m speechless
I considered a cup of coffee as your memory
My one shot love is mad drunk
Guarders of the plot legions
What else do I have left than rap
Waters drain away in these gardens
Breaking away from hellhounds
Find the water that’s not running in the desert
There are taps all over, Find it!
Try to be a mortal
All we want is peace in the ace
Let there not be any kind of burlap
Let there not be a dime left for you
Laugh once though
Just laugh once
Even when it’s only once a year
The rose will leaf out on this desert
Morning will come to an end and so will we
We will disappear in the middle of the border
We will leave our words and rap
as our heritage!
Ey! The sense of rap without any reason
Keep on circulating in my vains
Blood has piled up on my temples
I’m not a one-sentence point
My name will be buried with my poems
My lines and my background
my slapping marks
Charcoal pencil in my hands
My black eyes steering
A passenger I’m waiting on on my roads
I’m a loser
My creator, Allah! Im troubled by guilt feeling for my youth
A toy gun is dominating my hand
I’ve got used to it alot
I’m living today
tomorrow I’m faceless
Am I living eternally with thousands of taboos and thousands of punishments
Only if I could be honey and poor down
There is only my heart, my hate on this world
and thousands of my existing punishments.