CALL OF DUTY (64 Bars) Lyrics (English Translation) – Capital Bra, JUMPA

Read the full CALL OF DUTY (64 Bars) (English Translation) lyrics by Capital Bra and JUMPA along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Capital Bra’s music, you can also explore Böse Jungs, another song by Capital Bra.

[Intro]
(JUMPA, make it jump!)

[Part: Capital Bra]
Ten o’clock in the morning, junkies are looking for Bela
Huge pupils, real film
Lak, don’t shout at me, don’t touch me
Don’t act crazy, I’m not going back a step
Everyone here has a gun and anything can happen
But who wants to risk ten years for junkies?
And before it escalates, we’d better go outside
Otherwise someone else will die, ah
Bra, I’m on Taș myself, with a knife in my hand
Opposite a slot machine
We’re going outside, that’s not fear
That’s common sense
You’re carrying a gun, Bratan, you’d better stay here
And don’t mess with me
Who wants beef? You can all come
After this song you’ll have diarrhea and [Parkinson’s?]
Bratan, we have nothing to do with the d!cks
Three years of Corona and nobody could test us
Lak, what are you looking at, you idiot? Berlin is not Paris
I’m doing a coup on a few beats, you [recoup from the?] release
And you son of a b!tch see, Capi, Bugatti
I only wear V-Power, who has my stamina? (Ah)
Oh colleague, here comes seventy kilos of hate
I’ve got a nine under my Gucci belt buckle
Half a case of Taș, Bratan, I’ve got bullets for all of you
Triangle, Bermuda, smoky rooms, the smell of whiskey
Ten, twenty horns, crystal-clear powder, poisonous shine, yes
SIG Sauer, I’m pissed off
I’ll clean the whole table with your head
When I come, the whole of Berlin will burn
Never speak of father again, otherwise I’ll send you to him
Who wants war? What about music? Shut up, don’t make the bra aggressive
When Bratan pulls one and pulls [his?]

(??) sharmuta, (??)
I’m not one to pull one and talk
I’m the one who pulls his and shoots
I’m sick, Bratan, I’m crazy
Fu*k your jaw, Habibi, (??)
What kind of back talk? Don’t fu*k my nerves
Or do you sons of b!tches want to die? Killers from Haiti and Antwerp
I’ll send you Afghans from the mountains
Throwing hand grenades, you can’t keep up
A-A-AK 47 from the USSR
And because I earn a lot, more and more are coming
And emptying magazines on you sons of b!tches
I-I-I’m Ukrainian, that means I’ll be back
You see AR-15 with a sound system, red dot sight
Lak, I’ll do Call of Duty with you, ah
Lak, you real ba*tard
Lay me a few lines with the Visa
The-the-the-this filthy Ukrainian
I’m sure to give you a stab, no feature
Abiat for judges, Abiat for lawyers
Abiat until I milk the whole city
Look, sold-out hall
They shout: “Capital”, I shout: “Abiat for everyone”
What you don’t understand
That the Bratan can take more
Because the Bratan one lays
Oh colleague, is the devil getting out of my way?
Berlin lives, Bra