More songs by Young Nudy
Description
The heavy air of the southern neighbourhoods is thick like syrup in the heat and smells of sweat, dust and the rustling of banknotes. Here, respect is measured not by words, but by the sound of a gunshot, and status by the number of ‘S’s on your chest. A world where youth is not about naivety, but about surviving at 170 km/h, while something metallic clicks behind you and fate winks at you with its headlights.
The rhythm beats like a heart in a bulletproof vest: cold, confident, with a touch of madness. It's too real to be just a track, and too loud to be just noise. Here, energy doesn't look for excuses - it just lives, shooting beats at the ceiling and laughing in the face of fear.
Lyrics and translation
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