C4h4nd - Teh Lash
Record Producer : Shervin Raadfar
Producer : Buckroll
Mix & Mastering : Shervin Raadfar
Cover Art : Sajjadabbariki

Lyric :

جو گرفتتت بچه ۲ لاین زدی
من یه‌جوری زدم قلب گذاشت زمین

دکترم بهم میگه مغزتو طاق زدی
پس میای جلو، بِپا فَکّتو باخت ندی

غصه ام طولانیه مثل سریالا
مومه تو مشت، قلقه این کارا

کفه دست چرکه، چرکه این ریالا
بار دم خونس، عین دیجی کالا

می‌بینم اینا، دکون وا کردن
همشون تقلن، ۲ رو تا گردن

اینا تو خیابون، پروها حبسن
پیچشونو با یه، ۲ سو و کردم

اصلا حالیته که با، من یکی جنگ فول
من صبحا های زیاد، شب یه ریز هَنگ اور
یکی نیاز دارم، وصل پینم کنه
اونی که دستمه، ته جی نی سر گُله

هوکا‌مو ول می‌دم فقط با پانچا
حاجی بالانس، سهند با لاین آ

کاش اینا حل می‌شد لا اقل با دادگاه
ولی تش جنگ اتک آن تایتان

ونک تا پاسگاه
شهرک تا بازار

ظفر تا پارک شاد
از کن تا آبشار

سحر تا شامگاه
طرف با کارما

از قضا فاکد آپ
هر هفت تا چاکرا

تتو رو گردن
بغلیم پر رو

من شروع کردم
تنتنی مود بود

من ژاپنی الگو‌م
تایسونی دور مو

آل کاپونی تور 
یا تونی مونت بوم

صدای بمب اومد
صدای بیسامه

یه کاره اُلد تو پک
که باره نیسانه

به‌کار فرمولم
یه جای سیف چاله

بگا  گلبولم
فشار جنسامه

من کفه ته لش
یه‌جایی شل رو موبل

وسط جت‌لگ
پنالتی اوت رو گل

زدم یه چشمک
یه دافی مرد رو کوک

چرنده قصه ات
بجا این جوک رو کن

می‌افته دنبالم
اف‌بی‌آی ۵ قاره

حق داره چون فقط
۴۰ جی لا لفظامه

فاصله‌م از مرگ
اوین تا چمران

امضا‌هام حکمه و
اختیارم تامِه

تکیلامم بامه
بچین باز برنامه

سفیدامم ناب
۳ جی خام همرامه

اکیپ با من پایه
بریم تا سیاره

رفیقا خر مایه
یه ویلا ومپایر


اینا واسه فراغت شاید 
ولی صداقت ندارن که هدایت باشن

گذر ایام چند 
اینا شریان ندارن که خیام شن

حواس اینا به دلارا بیشتر
گل اقا شاید ولی مولانا نیستن

حقیقت و میگم واضح ببینن
فاضل بشنم حافظ نمیشن

Teh Lash

Yo, I’m one of real ones left, a beat generational curse,
But some few ones deaf, yet I remain blessed,
Grandmother was the head of church,
Lost in a generational search for greatness,
Statements never relayed at the station,

Cold winter nights, cats and mice in rotation,
Maybe should’ve gone exec, took my father’s advice,
Stew with the rice, yeah, daily living life,
I'm talking basics, does this shit even make sense?

Circle got smaller, now just a few ones left,
War our crew, do you want death? Or are you on meth?
Chess moves in this game, not checkers,
Beat the odds, now don’t owe debtors,

Couple weeks back, I was in the diamond district,
Beat the odds: the statistics,
Sadistic thinkin’ that you assisted,
Restricted to gifts, just Christmas wishes,

I listen back to my raps, pure motivation,
Victory lap, this a fucking celebration,
Beat the odds, the scholars provided us with education,
Give praise to God, music's my occupation,

Generational curse turned to blessings all around,
Obsessive with these writtens, watch the wealth compound,
Provide for the kids, laughter to surround,
The image that I crafted, can’t be shot down,

Mastered the art, attachments on lock,
Set straight these bastards, no masquerade on the block,
This a mass parade, beat the odds like my ancestors,
Slaves to the crown, now we rebels, no stressors,

Age of deliverance, crafted images so vivid,
Doubt still creeps from the fam, they don't get it,
Diagnosed with psychosis, bipolar disorder,
But I’m givin’ out orders, fuck the doctors' border,

Do this for my unborn, my sons and my daughters,
When they hear this shit I made, proud as they oughta,
Income received, passing through hands of thieves,
But a fraction of the pie, still I’m breaking the leaves,

Action been released, celebration in the heath,
Education for the children that are trying to believe,
Just a piece from their masterpiece,
Now watch me feast, this fire won’t cease.

Yo, I’m one of real ones left, a beat generational curse,
But some few ones deaf, yet I remain blessed,
Grandmother was the head of church,
Lost in a generational search for greatness,
Statements never relayed at the station,

Cold winter nights, cats and mice in rotation,
Maybe should’ve gone exec, took my father’s advice,
Stew with the rice, yeah, daily living life,
I'm talking basics, does this shit even make sense?

Circle got smaller, now just a few ones left,
War our crew, do you want death? Or are you on meth?
Chess moves in this game, not checkers,
Beat the odds, now don’t owe debtors,

Couple weeks back, I was in the diamond district,
Beat the odds: the statistics,
Sadistic thinkin’ that you assisted,
Restricted to gifts, just Christmas wishes,

I listen back to my raps, pure motivation,
Victory lap, this a fucking celebration,
Beat the odds, the scholars provided us with education,
Give praise to God, music's my occupation,

Generational curse turned to blessings all around,
Obsessive with these writtens, watch the wealth compound,
Provide for the kids, laughter to surround,
The image that I crafted, can’t be shot down,

Mastered the art, attachments on lock,
Set straight these bastards, no masquerade on the block,
This a mass parade, beat the odds like my ancestors,
Slaves to the crown, now we rebels, no stressors,

Age of deliverance, crafted images so vivid,
Doubt still creeps from the fam, they don't get it,
Diagnosed with psychosis, bipolar disorder,
But I’m givin’ out orders, fuck the doctors' border,

Do this for my unborn, my sons and my daughters,
When they hear this shit I made, proud as they oughta,
Income received, passing through hands of thieves,
But a fraction of the pie, still I’m breaking the leaves,



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