alak (Cypher) Lyrics English Translation by Gloc-9
(feat. Hero, Ramdiss, Arvy T, G Clown)
Waking up in the morning, getting out of bed
Shower then brush teeth, coffee to get going
Whatever needs to get done today
Just keep going straight, don’t mind the haters
Look around, respond, we’re only here for the vibe
So your head don’t heat up, put some ice on it
If it seems like you’re running short, well, you gotta build up steam
Something’s dripping from the roof, patch up the tin
Remedy, even if it’s just made up
It should always leave a mark like it’s sealed
The mind of the listener, a kid who was told stories
Even if they say there’s nothing left, you can still flick it
Sharing food, the buddies are all packed in close
All mixed up, hitting and hitting like riding a horse
Running and chasing the dream, going places
Anywhere, not caring even if it’s far
Near or far, what matters is you can hold on
Like a little kid on the street wanting to hang on
To the jeep, beep, this is a ride of dreams
Rushing, meeting everything that blocks the way
Smashed into each other by fate, running into one another
Sharing food over music with a sturdy roof
Meeting up when they all came out of the box at once
Crushed by feelings, even if hidden, howling
Dude, wasn’t that super hot
Face turning red like a hotdog
Mix it well, you should always be hands on
Like our producer who’s handsome
It’s really blurry when I don’t have my glasses
If you’re getting dried out, drink some water
When you’re getting lost, go look for clues
So the taste matches up, mix yourself some juice
So you don’t get confused, stir this into the mix
Not to make excuses even if the water’s cloudy
Got lost in the music that the heart was searching for
Suddenly the radar lit up and this is where it pointed me
When you get too deep in the game, you don’t even put on the toga
Caught by the dark while flying a kite
The toy helicopter broke on a goal that got coma’d
Dream of punching the moon, oh well, here’s the rubber band
Oha, it’s different when forces combine
There are choices with lots of themes
Different stuff sells in our scene
Like a store at Aling Nena’s
There’s wrong, dried fish, there’s our fun stuff
There’s a hint, but it should always have value
But what I want is for you to be full
Like the one who stirred up this sound
Go ahead, give it to me so it bangs, intense
While it makes their hair stand up
Even if it’s hard when the words are hiding
When you find it, it’s like just playing around
Dancing along to the sound that was flaunted
Like bamboo swaying along with the poet
Kids writing poems who woke up to verses
Grandchildren of Francisco and Crisostomo Ibarra
Written by Rizal using his finger
Hold it, strangle the long rope
What’s left, whoever remains
Don’t get into a pissing contest
Don’t wave it around, aim for the hole, and wash up
Then wipe after pouring, you know what to do
Run fast and write something sharp and startling
That a poet replaces, the writer pressing hard
Always hammering into the common sense
The stove always has a flame, even if it doesn’t respond
Even if the fire goes out, the embers don’t die
When the ash builds up, your hands will cramp from fanning
Not even fifteen, awake, no regrets about staying up
To triple the writing, stayed in the forest
Everything was spilled out, ready to dive into the mud
Never forgot the mission, padlocked in the brain
Spot on, point out the potholes to others
So that what they don’t know yet, they can hold onto too
Share it with the friends who got invited
And someone might say to you, hey, you’re here too
Remember the path, mark it with a string
The people you’re with, sniff out their character
It’s scary being alone in a building
Because success is shit if you’ve got no one to share it with