Gavazn

Gavazn [TakTaraneh.Com]

Gavazn  [TakTaraneh.Com]

Dashte Parvaneha

Pelikan

Birahe

Goriz Az Markaz ...

Daar (Dastane Maryam)

Gavazn[TakTaraneh.Com]

Nakhoda Jelal

Harkat (Arrabeye Marg)

عکسم


قد من نباش این پر نمیکشه تا وقتی که بالاش گرم نیست

من سراسر زندگیم مثل سرم خشکه نمیدم تشخیص

میگه این راهی که میری میدونم هیچی تش نیست

میگه حرفم خنده داره میدونم طنز نیست

میگه هر شغلی که توش پول نباشه فقط یه ولگردیه

میگم زندگیم یه محصولیه که ضررش دلگرمیه

سرکوفت ها رو میبلعم روی میز غذاخوری

مادرم اشک میریزه واسم اما خودم نفازولین

قد میکشه شاهکارم اضافه میکنه شاخ و برگ

میبینی همیشه تاج رو سرم کارم کشت شاهدونست

انتظارا بیش از حدش روانیم میکنه سنگینیش رو شونست

بگذریم اینجا ساختار ملت مثل ساختار ماسولست

بودیم دیدم بزار حرف بزنن پشتم ما جواب و تو رینگ میدیم

چون اون که میبخشه نه اونی که

میجنگه شب جشن میگیره زندگیشو بزرگوار میشه

آ یکی اعتراض و مینویسه نوشته هاش جیغ میزنن

میشنوی این صدای قانونه چنگ نیست

نوازندش کچله میبرین چند گیس

مرز بودین واسه ماها مغز شدیم پاشیدیم

نداشته هارو بوسیدیم هر چی دادین پوشیدیم

گرم بود اونقدر که توش پوسیدیم آره پوسیدیم آ

من ی چاره جو رو زمینم که واسه رسیدن به زیرش چاله میکنم

شما هی پر میکنین من ی چاه دیگه میکنم

شما هی تیکه تیکم میکنین من باز تیکه میزنم آ تیکه میزنم

تیکه میزنم آ تیکه میزنم

وقتی من از بین برم خونواده میگه تو لکم؟ دختره میگه تو ترکم ؟

کاسبه میگه کو دکم؟

یکی میگه زمان میره پیر میشم مچاله میشه صورتم

میگم خودم زمان رو زمینم اگه عرش باشه آسمونو فرش باشه زمین

من زیرش مووکتم آب از سرم گذشته توهم بیا روش

اگر پیک است بگم گرم دم کیا نوش

اینجا همرو گنده میکنن اگر ی نمه باشی واقع بین

د جرات هارو میتونی ببینی زیر ذره بین

من تصویر ذهنیم بهتره توهم روش کار کن برسی در عوض

i love u دوست دارم بگم fuck you PMC

هممون رنجیدیم من از طرز تفکرت تو از عدم فرهنگ

همه جوره داریم ته گشاد و سرهنگ

مونده به گردنای پشمالوتون زنگوله ببندن

بزنن دستاتون بره بالا پایین نیاد واسه خاطر دخترای بندر

ولی من عکس حرکتتم همیشه برعکسم

مثلا تو عکاسی ولی من عکس نمیگیرم چون میگم بد عکسم

تو ی تصویر زیبایی ولی من عکسم تو ی واکنش محترمی بر عکسم....

Axam

Diss all hichkas

something for the ladies to get hyped up 

Bust One.mp3

This song is a lyrical exorcism—an intimate reckoning with a love that lingers like a virus in the bloodstream. Blending Southern Gothic imagery with glitchy digital metaphors, it paints the narrator as both wound and witness, haunting the body and soul of someone who tried to forget. The verses pulse with feverish metaphors (“boilerman pumpin’ your veins,” “shadow stitched in your spine”), while the chorus hits like a poisoned lullaby—“You sip your peace, but I spike the glass.” It’s a sonic ghost story, where memory refuses to die and love is the sickness that won’t confess.

A Taste of Me

Title: Face of the Earth (Metaphoric)

Intro (spoken / low keys)
Ayo, Kilo Bizniz, Smoked Out Mafia
We move silent, move precise — watch the chessboard.
Let’s paint the picture.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “oh you kin,” “flak flak,” “booyika”

Verse 1 (16 bars)
Step in the room, pockets heavy like freight, I weigh plans,
City stitched on my back, I move with my hands on the lands,
They whisper loud online but quiet when we stand,
Act tough in text, but IRL they switch up the brand.
I stack like architecture, blueprint in my mind,
Cut ties like old tags when the weather turn unkind,
My circle food for the fam — you starving? You decline,
We ghost like winter smoke, leave memories behind.
No need for crude lines — I paint storms in a phrase,
Make you feel small like a footprint in haze,
We don't parade drama; we erase with malaise,
Respect the recipe — loyalty pays.
I move like a general; every step's rehearsed,
Turn your spotlight to dust, like old posters on a curb,
If you gamble with the Bizniz, you'll learn what’s deserved,
Not by a gun lesson, but by time’s quiet verb.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “oh you kin,” “say less”

Verse 2 (16 bars)
Back on the block where the neon don't blink, we measure weight,
Trust is currency, counterfeit off the ledger, check the slate,
They smile in the daylight but trade souls by night, rotate,
We keep our code like medals — polished, never fake.
I flow with the ledger, balance sheets of respect,
Cross the line? You get ghosted — like an old cassette, decked,
No headlines, no rallies, just silence that connects,
Disappearances ain’t trophies — it’s how the city corrects.
Money talk soft but it echoes like drum rolls,
Crew move like eclipses — blockin' out weak souls,
We bookend our moves with calm, not tolls,
You learn the lesson: cold winters freeze bold goals.
We take what we earn, flip the script, keep the nerve,
Turn your name into fog — natural reserve,
Not by shouting or blood, but by absence observed,
A whisper in the crowd where your echo got curved.

Hook / Chorus
fuckimg with the bizniz will get ya fucking wig split,
so the sucker won't take off his helmet, (i bet it's hot)
somebody got shot faulty in the turf,
ninjas fade you like chalk off the sidewalk — off the face of this earth.
Ad-libs: “hi-yah,” “booyika,” “yah yah”

Bridge (8 bars — tension build, melodic under)
No sirens, just stillness — that hush before rain,
We move like a season, rearrange the plain,
Keep the circle fortified — no room for the stain,
When the wind passes through, only legends remain.
(Spoken) Respect ain't optional — it’s the script and the verse,
We don't embellish endings, we let absence disperse,
Kilo write the margins where your name used to burst,
Metaphors the ink and silence the hearse.

Verse 3 (16 bars — closer)
Final chapter, slow burn, dusk flip to dawn, we observe,
You scribbled threats in margins — we edited the curve,
I built an empire on grit, not on nerve,
Now you just a footnote in the story I serve.
I ain't glorify pain — I translate the grind,
Take your loud bravado and fold it in time,
We collect quiet wins, compound like fine wine,
You end up faded, like highlights in grime.
I'm the architect, conductor, hush in the crowd,
I move like shadows at noon — confident, proud,
If you front on the Bizniz, you vanish from the loud,
Not by spectacle, but by rain that clears clouds.
So keep your distance, mind your tone and your worth,
Respect the movement or dissolve into earth,
We built this from ash, polished in hearth,
Tryin' with the Bizniz? — 



The Face Of The Earth.wav

To support this artist please go on his personal website: 

http://doran-talaei.org 

and purchase the album if you reside in Iran. This album will be placed on iTunes at somepoint as soon as that gets placed the download links will be taken off.

www.Rapnaame.com
www.FB.com/Rapnaame

Reza Pishro - Donyaye Ma

'Pishro - Doran Talaei LP'

Release date: 2012-12-21
Buy: http://alturl.com/zqe8h

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