STRAIGHT OUTTA C.Y.M.

Lyrics

[INTRO — STREET AMBIENCE, CARDS SLAPPING, BEAT BUILDS]
Now everybody from the C.Y.M., put your motherfucking hands up and follow the man!
Came up from the block, now I'm back with a plan,
MARAKANSKY on the mic — let me show you who I am!
BEAT DROPS — HARD BOOM-BAP
VERSE 1 — GRITTY, CONTROLLED FLOW
West side of Rabat, where the nights ran wild,
Raised by a single mom, just a street-raised child.
No silver spoon, no shortcut, no handout plan,
Just a mother doing everything to raise her son a man.
Cards on the corner, football out in the street,
Two stones for the goalposts, bare dust on our feet.
One minute we laughed, next minute fists flew,
Screams cutting through the block, everybody knew.
Dealers on the corner, money changing hands,
Everybody had a hustle, everybody had a plan.
Had to fight for my place, had to earn my respect,
Every step was a test, every move a threat.
Ma kanch sahla, khassni n9awed blasti,
(It wasn't easy, I had to make my place.)
F-C.Y.M. kberna, w l-7ouma 3allmatni,
(We grew up in C.Y.M., and the neighborhood taught me.)
HOOK — CROWD CHANT
C-Y-M! — PUT YOUR HANDS UP HIGH!
WEST SIDE OF RABAT, WE WERE BORN TO SURVIVE!
C-Y-M! — YALLA, MAKE SOME NOISE!
From the corners to the stage, let me hear my people’s voice!
Hna wlad l-7ouma, ma kan-nsawch l-asl!
(We're the neighborhood kids, we never forget our roots!)
MARAKANSKY REPRESENTS — NOW FOLLOW THE MAN!
VERSE 2 — BATTLE RAP, SHARPER FLOW
You can talk about the streets, but you don't know the price,
When the same block gives you love, then it tests your life.
Everybody wants respect, nobody wants disgrace,
So you learn to hold your ground, never beg for your place.
I watched tempers explode, watched the whole block shake,
Heard the threats, saw the fights, felt the tension and hate.
Football till the sunset, cards till the night,
Then the shouting started up under every streetlight.
I ain't dressing up the struggle, I ain't selling you a lie,
Some were chasing a future, some were just getting by.
Behind every hard face, there's a story untold,
Behind every loud voice, there's a heart growing cold.
Mama held it together when the road got steep,
She had burdens of her own, still she gave me what I need.
If I stand here today, let the whole block understand:
I carry what she taught me every time I take the stand!
HOOK — BIGGER, FULL CROWD
C-Y-M! — PUT YOUR HANDS UP HIGH!
WEST SIDE OF RABAT, WE WERE BORN TO SURVIVE!
C-Y-M! — YALLA, MAKE SOME NOISE!
From the corners to the stage, let me hear my people’s voice!
Hna wlad l-7ouma, ma kan-nsawch l-asl!
MARAKANSKY REPRESENTS — NOW FOLLOW THE MAN!
VERSE 3 — BATTLE-RAP FINISH
I don't need a fake story, I got truth in the booth,
Every bar is a memory, every rhyme is the proof.
I was raised where you learn not to fold, not to bend,
Where a stranger might test you and a neighbor's your friend.
Had to carve my own space, put my name on the map,
Turn the noise of the streets into fire on a track.
Not a saint, not a king, never claimed to be,
Just a voice from the west side telling our history.
From the cards and the pitches to the fights in the night,
From a mother's hard work to a son's will to fight.
You can challenge my words, you can question my plan,
But you can't erase my roots or the place where I stand!
FINAL HOOK — BEAT HITS HARDEST
C-Y-M! — PUT YOUR HANDS UP HIGH!
WEST SIDE OF RABAT, LET THE WHOLE WORLD HEAR OUR CRY!
C-Y-M! — YALLA, MAKE SOME NOISE!
MARAKANSKY REPRESENTS — THIS IS OUR VOICE!
YACoub EL MANSOUR! RABAT! MAKE A STAND!
C.Y.M. FOREVER — NOW FOLLOW THE MAN!
OUTRO — BEAT CUTS DEAD
West side of Rabat.
One mother. One son. A thousand lessons.
C.Y.M.
MARAKANSKY.
We remember where we came from.