Snack mol wedder Platt - Finkwarder Speeldeel

Intro Saw a man in the street with his fist in the air Treading along with a quiet limp and a mystery glare This could be fair he insisted in a whisper and star

It锛噑 like that black star track, i锛噈 feeling their beat Some cities have a tendency to breath in their sleep Heeding their weak warning, i lift my hands hig

Contrary to popular belief I wasn锛噒 born with a mic in my sleeve Took damn near twenty years to proceed to that point But when i did it was a rebirth in rhyth

6.45 in the morning in december I锛噈 waiting for the dawning of the sunlight and remember Your slender, fragile figure asleep beside me You shivered and weeped

With a mic in my hand I＇m number one in the chain of command And it was all planned beforehand I stand corrected and perfected the styles you call grand Evolve a