كرمال milon المنتهي زاحف وفيفا G5 وكل من يلزمه

جوكر كونكشن عنبر 6 & معدل ..

Mc 9ad - [ مكس دسات]

‎⁨اصحى - Mc 9aD  ⁩

عالم الGeez

MIX DIS MC 9AD (FULL MIX)

Unknown. – Mc SaaD - امسي سعد | مكس دسات.mp3

KamiKaze & WSD - Q8 | WG & Tsonamy & 7amood-G

Godly

Singles

U SHOULD

[Verse]
Minimum’s a floor? For the poor it’s a lock and a lanyard,
Pennies in the backseat, cracked soles, pantry’s a planet of scarcity, granular.
Streetlight glitters on grit, we script little victories, manual stamina,
Mama with a hymn in her breath, faith flares like a lantern in canisters.
First shifts, fistfuls of nickels, registers ring but the ribs stay famished up,
Tips drip, rent climbs ivy, timepiece grinding—management vanishes.
Legislators debate, delay—parade platitudes, damage us,
We balance budgets on cuticles, cut loose from ladders they’ve fastened up.
Counting scars on receipts, receipts repeat like stanzas,
Dollar stretched cello-string thin, discordant answers.
Yet we craft from scraps, stitch rations into banners,
Gospel in the margins, marching through the slander.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Verse]
Inflation gnaws like a sawblade, raw blade on hope’s rope,
Groceries ghost from the cart, utilities choke throats.
Loans loom, wage tombs, bones ache from slow growth,
Federal floor frostbit, states lift—still low slope.
But the block shares bread, church pots steam solace,
Choirs ladle courage, prophets preach honest.
We organize clinics, co-ops, ballots like comets,
Policy maps lit up, law-shifts promise.
Strike drums thunder—crumbs? Nah, ovens for all of us,
Hands up, chants up, justice won’t stall with us.
From child-night whispers to rallies at dawn’s cusp,
We flip spreadsheets to seedbeds—watch trust blossom.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Bridge]
God of alleys and lilies, hear the brittle and bleak,
Clothe our labor with plenty, feed the famine of weeks.
If sparrows are cherished, let the factory speak—
Lift the ledger of sorrow, let the hungry eat.

[Chorus]
Empty pockets, heavy heart—still I rise, still I start,
They build walls with wealth—I build dreams part by part.
What’s a life if a wage won’t feed the flame of my art?
I walk through shadowed markets with fire in my heart.

[Chorus]
Dreams are tendered when banks won’t lend—we mend, not pretend,
Faith accrues interest, hope compounds without end.
From price-tag chains and paper pains we ascend—
Name untaken, flame unshaken—amen, we transcend.


Empty Pockets

The AssAssiNs - Last Round - بطولة نجم شرق الأوسط.mp3

MIX DIS MC 9AD (FULL MIX)

3oN_OFFICIAL

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