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Diptyque (English Translation)
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Dinos
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Letra
Yeah, yeah I don't have a clean conscience but my pockets are full In the hood there's snow but we don't know how to do bobsleigh Either I live, I die or I hang around Money is the best power of all, ask Bruce Wayne I'm no ordinary person, born in the nettle Back home, demons do not wait midnight to come out No miracle, I don't want to hear what's right for me Because I already know that I won't do what I'm told I remember my first slap, my first b*t*h I remember my first pu**y I remеmber my first bar I remembеr my first fight, I promise I remember The times I would call late at night to talk about my pain I remember everything, your smile, your tears, the laughs that we had I don't understand how our love could rot I remember that I wanted to be the strongest, I wanted For you to remember my Tom Ford perfume Or Comme des Garçons So many ways to love me We tore each other apart like dupes Why are you afraid of me, you've got the same heart I'm in front of your apartment, smells like turmeric I told you I will move on but I swear that I did not My hands were made for gold and they are in zirconium Mirror, mirror, everything seems dark I won't ask you any questions cause I'm afraid of the answers Mirror, mirror, everything seems dark I won't ask you any questions cause I'm afraid of the answers Either the skies are bad Or my vows can't be heard, or my angel has bad ears I want to travel through time like a hieroglyph Or travel around the coast, like a kilo of drugs I learned to get up without any help I learned to fly without any wings I didn't learn to love without her I'll always stay as the monster, I won't ever change I'm still the monster You won't hear me scream, you'll hear me pray I'm doing ASMR with the cash machine Yeah Dark smoke keeps me from seeing I keep on lying and disappointing In the heat of summer, I'm cold In forty-five minutes, I made three salaries Smoke shield in front of the helmet Leather gloves like I'm preparing a heist I finish, I sing and take the money, the b*t*hes, I leave If I'm not in the A3, I'm in the Cla**e So many hard moments to live I'm away from home like the moms of Mali, or the diamonds from Zaire On the moto, without a helmet like I'm f**king death But here, it stinks so bad, it's not a metaphor So many dead people on the floor, I think I only walk with people like me Money does not make the man, respect does But here, we respect rich people, so open the safe
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