Chiedi Alla Polvere 2008 - Marracash
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{Lyrics of "Chiedi Alla Polvere 2008"}
{Intro}
Look at us in the shadow of the buildings
What's left for us?
Dust
{Verse 1}
Bro, that's my gift to the paupers, l am the mullah among the outcasts
To those who have no bread, to those who have lost their teeth
And stays in the public housing in beehive cells
With their parents and their sisters in forty square feet
To beasts cramped in penitentiaries
Those shaved guys who maybe ended up in handcuffs for childhood issues
A year in the penitentiary, they come out criminals
This is for the various wrongs suffered by institutional pigs
To those who go out late at night without expensive clothes
Those you only see at the club if there's an open bar at the party
To every drunk in town lost
Who wanders around every day looking at the brothers sideways
To who did store credit and now is in trouble
You risk the stabs if you hope to tell them you weren't cut out for it
To those born with no breath, with no fate
God made him and he's at His table without a plate
To those whose knife is hidden inside their boxers
They want easy money from the one who wears Dockers
But you can't give low blows to fate
Bro, fate is a lie and has short legs
And the prince never seeks a wife in the sewers
Our women bear children with birthmarks
To those who got that I have what it takes to tell
I'm still real, my stuff is made of social fucking fabric
{Chorus}
This song is priceless to those who asked for it
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
I'm in the middle of it and I didn't choose it no, this is hell
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
{Post-Chorus}
Ask the black powder of a revolver's cylinder
Or the colorless one but still true that surrounds us
Bro, it's misery, not merely money
Man, whether you were born docile or only to harm
{Verse 2}
To those who wake up early in the morning
Those who resigns themselves to an honest job, the same action for eight hours
To those who at that hour chop the last line
Becomes annoying with the gab and is silent only to himself
To whom you often put in the middle of your problems
If you rhyme and pretend to be raw, I disrespect you
The gullible man with the myth of a man of integrity
All you need is acetone and you get a compressed stone, idiot
To those whose mother is anxious sleepless in a bed
To those who are dressed AMSA, sleeping in the waiting room
To those whose father speaks only dialect
The times and manners change and the world conjugates with the imperfect
To those who dream of the limelight and the spotlight
At dawn the limelight is that of a moving van
For your voids filled with our votes
Left or right, it's still a mousetrap
And to my grandfather who in Sicily still squeezes the vine in the garden
And to my father they squeezed the life out of his body
And to my dirty, filthy South
To those who have suffered and want everything at once
Mine is a generation of losers
The fucking cycle of the vanquished and false myths
Atavistic hunger, those who are hungry swallow and don't chew
If he chewed, he'd know the world how much it hurts him
{Chorus}
This song is priceless to those who asked for it
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
I'm in the middle of it and I didn't choose it no, this is hell
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
{Post-Chorus}
Ask the black powder of a revolver's cylinder
Or the colorless one but still true that surrounds us
Bro, it's misery, not merely money
Man, whether you were born docile or only to harm
{Lyrics of "Chiedi Alla Polvere 2008"}
{Intro}
Look at us in the shadow of the buildings
What's left for us?
Dust
{Verse 1}
Bro, that's my gift to the paupers, l am the mullah among the outcasts
To those who have no bread, to those who have lost their teeth
And stays in the public housing in beehive cells
With their parents and their sisters in forty square feet
To beasts cramped in penitentiaries
Those shaved guys who maybe ended up in handcuffs for childhood issues
A year in the penitentiary, they come out criminals
This is for the various wrongs suffered by institutional pigs
To those who go out late at night without expensive clothes
Those you only see at the club if there's an open bar at the party
To every drunk in town lost
Who wanders around every day looking at the brothers sideways
To who did store credit and now is in trouble
You risk the stabs if you hope to tell them you weren't cut out for it
To those born with no breath, with no fate
God made him and he's at His table without a plate
To those whose knife is hidden inside their boxers
They want easy money from the one who wears Dockers
But you can't give low blows to fate
Bro, fate is a lie and has short legs
And the prince never seeks a wife in the sewers
Our women bear children with birthmarks
To those who got that I have what it takes to tell
I'm still real, my stuff is made of social fucking fabric
{Chorus}
This song is priceless to those who asked for it
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
I'm in the middle of it and I didn't choose it no, this is hell
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
{Post-Chorus}
Ask the black powder of a revolver's cylinder
Or the colorless one but still true that surrounds us
Bro, it's misery, not merely money
Man, whether you were born docile or only to harm
{Verse 2}
To those who wake up early in the morning
Those who resigns themselves to an honest job, the same action for eight hours
To those who at that hour chop the last line
Becomes annoying with the gab and is silent only to himself
To whom you often put in the middle of your problems
If you rhyme and pretend to be raw, I disrespect you
The gullible man with the myth of a man of integrity
All you need is acetone and you get a compressed stone, idiot
To those whose mother is anxious sleepless in a bed
To those who are dressed AMSA, sleeping in the waiting room
To those whose father speaks only dialect
The times and manners change and the world conjugates with the imperfect
To those who dream of the limelight and the spotlight
At dawn the limelight is that of a moving van
For your voids filled with our votes
Left or right, it's still a mousetrap
And to my grandfather who in Sicily still squeezes the vine in the garden
And to my father they squeezed the life out of his body
And to my dirty, filthy South
To those who have suffered and want everything at once
Mine is a generation of losers
The fucking cycle of the vanquished and false myths
Atavistic hunger, those who are hungry swallow and don't chew
If he chewed, he'd know the world how much it hurts him
{Chorus}
This song is priceless to those who asked for it
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
I'm in the middle of it and I didn't choose it no, this is hell
Ask the dust, it's different here
It's not sociology, movies, books or a text
My report, bro, it's direct
{Post-Chorus}
Ask the black powder of a revolver's cylinder
Or the colorless one but still true that surrounds us
Bro, it's misery, not merely money
Man, whether you were born docile or only to harm
