Текст и перевод песни Moro - H.M.R

H.M.R

Hada sawt zan9a sa7bi hada machi rap
Mousi9a dyal lfou9ara
Banlk l'blan awla?! Moro

Hada machi rap sa7bi hada sawt zan9a
F wednin ga3 li b7ali, kho machi public l'mer9a
L'ga3 li kay7ellou 3aynihom kheyyo b ke7la garrou w wer9a
L'ga3 li 7ass b rasso ghrib f blad 7ok jerr w kher9a
Ra dima nefss lfer9a jamais chanjina l'équipe
Machi s7ab l7el9a kho l3ettaya dyal stup'
Kayn li ferga3ha b za9, w kayne li fergar3a b tube
7na 3echnaha byed o k7el, machi f storyat Youtube
Maghangolch likom ytoub, jamais zamel ghadi ytoub
L'ga3 li darou l'drapeau toubo, w kaytsennaw fel 7abb ydoub
Maghandwich likom fel 7oub, ra 7obbi 7lal fih dnoub
L9er3a 7alla bagha tkobb, jamais investina fel kdoub
Kolchi m3ana hna me7soub, l3echra towwelha l7sab
Rejla katmout gha f droub, 7yatou wer9a men lktab
Khona sauva gha bel hbal, 7it b droga 3e9lo dab
Hnaya 9etlo lmousta9bal w semmaw kolchi fel mektab
Hada machi rap, hada sawt hadouk li
Ghayaklo m3ak trab, ghadi tchofhom gha b lil
Dyab west lghaba, kaytrassiwha gha bs9il
W ila ta7o ra fel ghare9, 7it kay3oumo gha f t9il
Hada sawt l'menottes, sawt swaret dyal lgriya
Sawt l7ogra w tofola, khrej men bab l isla7ya
Rkhiss ra jamais kayswa, miyta lihom l3a9lya
Ra kan3erfk bla keswa, bla matji tebghi t3i9 3lya
Hada machi rap, hada sawt l aghlabya
L'ga3 li derbo montifathom batel mistara raj3iya
Machi darouri teghlet, khas tgoul gha sem7o lya
Kandir lihom ro9ya, may9edrouch ysem3o lya
Ri7t zetla dyal l'blad, sawt lkhawi dyal Garouan
Zid f sawt sekket l3bad, zidou naghza fel alwan
Jibou l'mineurat l chikh, w weld l'blad yemchi b joint
La jiti t9errina tarikh, akhona ghletti fel 3onwan
Hada sawt wlad lblad, kho li matou herbanin
Achno darou men ghalat, bghaw gha l'malou wa lbanoun
Bla ma t7esbou ch7al li matou west lb7er kho 3etchanin
Bla man7esbo li fel 7abs, w li jabouha bel ballon
Hada machi rap, sawt lmda fog l'godron
Lbare7 kan khriyyef lyouma sme3na ra rebba lgroun
Kanavigui 3la rou7i bla madir 3lya patron
La cheddo 100g 3ref belli f blastha daz tonne
7oll wednek m3aya, sme3 mzyan sawt l7ogra
Nti lebssi l3abaya, khona kaymizi fel 7ofra
F'blad ta9awadit, 3endna katsemma gha sokhra
Kolchi baghi dheb, jnoun makaylebsouch no9ra
Jdoudi kanou fo9ra, bouya bghani ne9ra
3tawna bach ndoukhou, brakinaha f 7ay l osra
Gha yle3bo bik nta, la ma kentich labess l3echra
F zen9a sayf w chta, jamais dinaha kho f nechra
Hada sawt wlad l'blad, li kaydreb fel 7it w kayti7
Hada khrej f droub lil, tsenna ghedda wa7d ghayti7
Daba kolchi kaytir, chkoun li 3liha kayghir
Kaykhesro gha chafawi, mais f lekher kolchi kaybi3
Mab9itch baghi nkoun rwayed, bghit nched ana l'guidon
Chabiba ghada fog l'bayd, men te7t smya khra bidoun
Khelletna ma 7ya b limoun, ch3el w zid f Cheb Mimoune
Ba9yin kay9elbo 3lya b7al chi allo f siloune
Hada machi rap, hadi mousi9a dyal l9wadess
Hadi l'ga3 li ba3ou rwa7hom, melli lebsohom l9wamej
7ta klaw lihom djaj, khellawhom mtayfine 3el 9chawech
Fay9 s7ab trabech, goul l chawech 9me3 drawech
Safi tfini dir pause, men wednik ghaydouz dem
Mousi9ti salya tar n3as, mab9itich ghadi te7lem
Jrina m3ahom retard, 7it lahawna b sem
Nta 7al fomk b7al l7mar, koul w n3es bla ma tefhem
Sa7bi hada machi rap, hadi mousi9a dyal skat
Li kay3ichouha fel 7arb, d douk li kaymouto f skat
Dmou3 s9aw trab, sowlo l7enana lach bkat
Bzaf bghaw ybeddlou l3alam, b joint w jouj les9at
Ne9ezna l7yout, melli tseddou 3lina lbiban
Jbed l3a9a wella zerwata, w weld lkelba ghadi yban
Kay7efro f 9berna w kaybi3o lina l iman
Safi w3ina melli mab9ach kayde7ekna Adil Imam
Hada machi rap, hada l mountif li f jnabek
Hada ljawab 3la dnoubek 3la li jabek
Wach nta li mchiti, wella sebbatk li mcha bek
Nhar 7kamek kho, mou7al ghatchouf s7abek
Kolchi b rojoula, menha kanjibo l'grade
Ba9i ma fehmouna, mais 3arfinhom bina mrad
Jbedna l'mouv men trab, 9bel ma ybanou s7ab trap
Hada sawt zen9a sa7bi hada machi rap

Hada sawt zen9a sa7bi hada machi rap
Banlk lblan awla?!
Moro

H.M.R

This is the voice of the streets, my friend, this is not rap
Music of the poor
Do you see it in white or?! Moro

This is not rap, my friend, this is the voice of the street
In the ears of those who are like me, it is not for the stage public
The hunger that blinds their eyes, take it in charcoal, hash, and paper
The hunger that makes you feel like a stranger in your own country, take it with you and tear it up
It's always the same difference, we never changed the team
Not friends of the episode, bro, just stupid stoners'
Some blow it up in the hood, and some blow it up on YouTube
We lived it in black and white, not in Youtube stories
We don't give a damn about your Youtube, the camel will never repent
Those who raised the flag repented, and are waiting for love to doubt
We don't care about your love, I just want halal love with flaws
The naked truth wants to rise, we never invested in lies
Everything with us is calculated, friendship prolongs the reckoning
Manhood dies only on the road, his life is a page from the book
My brother is only saved by a rope, because his mind is messed up by drugs
Here they killed the future and named everything in the office
This is not rap, this is the voice of those who
Will eat dust with you, you will only see them in the dark
Devils in the shadows, they only draw it with ease
And if you are drowning, it's because they only swim in depth
This is the sound of minutes, the sound of crying faces
The sound of oppression and orphans, get out of the door of reform
Cheap, it's never worth it, their minds are dead
I know you without clothes, without you coming to try to fool me
This is not rap, this is the sound of the majority
Those who took their diplomas in vain, retired, awaiting pension
It's not necessary to be heavy, you just have to say excuse me
I'm giving them a vision, they can't hear me
The smell of hashish from the country, the sound of the poor from Garouan
Add to the sound of the people's market, add more color
Bring the Sheikh's minarets, and let the son of the country walk with a joint
If you come to teach us history, brother, you got the address wrong
This is the voice of the children of the country, bro, those who died poor
What did they do wrong, they just wanted money and kids
Without counting how many died at sea, bro, swimming
Without counting those in prison, and those who got it with a football
This is not rap, the voice of suffering on the asphalt
Yesterday it was drizzling, today we hear the rumble of the group
I'm navigating on my own without a boss over me
If they caught 100g, know that a ton passed in its place
Open your ears with me, listen carefully to the sound of oppression
You wear the abaya, my brother is sinking in the hole
In a country that has grown old, we only call it rock
Everyone wants gold, crazy people don't wear rags
My grandparents were poor, my father wanted to read
They gave us something to cough on, we left it in the family neighborhood
They will only play with you, if you don't wear the ten
In the street, summer and winter, we never bought it, bro, in installments
This is the voice of the children of the country, who hit the wall and fall
This came out in the dark streets, wait tomorrow one will fall
Now everyone is flying, who is jealous of it
They are only losing their youth, but in the end everyone is selling
I don't want to be a follower anymore, I want to hold the handlebars myself
A young woman is going to be on top, under another name without a visa
They confused us, life is not with lemon, light it up and add it to Cheb Mimoune
They are still looking for me like a ghost in a saloon
This is not rap, this is the music of the saints
This is for all those who sold their souls, from the moment they wore the suits
Even the chickens ate them, they left them dying on the carpets
Above the friends of the fez, tell the sergeant, smoke weed
Just stop, blood will flow from your ears
My music is good for sleep, you will no longer dream
We are late with them because they took us by the name
You open your mouth like a donkey, eat and sleep without understanding
My friend, this is not rap, this is the music of silence
Those who live it in war, of those who die in silence
Tears have turned to dust, ask the compassionate woman why she cried
Many want to change the world, with a joint and two puffs
We cut the fish, from the moment they closed the doors on us
Take away the debt or sow it, and the son of a bitch will appear
They spit on our graves and sell us faith
Enough with us since Adil Imam no longer makes us laugh
This is not rap, this is the diploma that is next to you
This is the answer to your sins about what brought you
Did you go, or did the one who took you leave you
The day of your judgment, bro, you will never see your friends
Everything is by men, from which we get the grade
They still don't understand us, but they know they are sick with us
We pulled the move from the dust, before trap friends appeared
This is the voice of the street, my friend, this is not rap

This is the voice of the street, my friend, this is not rap
Do you see it in white or?!
Moro