(A dark boom-bap beat drops immediately. A haunting Arabic flute loops underneath. No intro — straight into the bars.) [Verse 1 - female] They call it an invasion, I call it a mirror — The closer you look, the uglier it gets, the clearer Khouti swimming the Strait like it's the Jordan River But Moses ain't coming, and the promised land don't deliver They built a fence to keep the hunger out the frame But hunger don't need a visa, hunger knows your name I'm from the 310 where the angels lost their halos Inglewood to Casa, we all dancing in the same shadows You call 'em criminals — z3ma, that's a punchline Your abuelo crossed the Atlantic on the same frontline Difference is his boat had a flag, a stamp, a story Now you wave that same flag wrapped in all its glory Flouss builds the wall and flouss tears it down The same hand that drowns you is the hand wearing the crown They sell the poverty like it's a limited edition And both sides of the border share the same ambition [Chorus - female] (The 808s drop hard) No borders, no masters, no saviors in the suit! We dying in the water while they counting up the loot! Sme7 lia — I see through the translation! They call it policy, I call it an execution! Tick-tock, tick-tock — the clock is made of bone! Every vote they cast is a body in the foam! [Verse 2 - female] Let's talk about the king who opened up the gate Used sixty thousand bodies just to negotiate That ain't migration, cuh — that's a chess move, cold Sacrificing pawns to keep the kingdom's gold And the right-wing in Madrid screaming 'bout la raza Forget their grandpas begged for work in Germany and France-a Hypocrisy so deep it got its own zip code 90210 for the rich, for the rest it's a dirt road From Tarajal to the 310, same concrete, different sun The system always wins 'cause the system's got the gun But the gun got two barrels — one points at the poor The other points at you when you knock on the wrong door Z3ma they protecting culture, protecting the tradition But culture built on fear is just a prison with permission I ain't defending nobody who steals or breaks the code But I'm calling out the architects who built this broken road [Chorus - female] No borders, no masters, no saviors in the suit! We dying in the water while they counting up the loot! Sme7 lia — I see through the translation! They call it policy, I call it an execution! Tick-tock, tick-tock — the clock is made of bone! Every vote they cast is a body in the foam! [Verse 3 - female] (The beat strips to raw drums and the flute — bare, cold) Seventy-two bodies and the news moved on by Monday Seventy-two funerals that nobody held on Sunday They gave 'em thirty seconds between the weather and the sport Then a politician cried on camera — what a sport The left said "open borders" from a gated neighborhood The right said "send 'em back" from a place they never stood Both sides got clean hands 'cause they never touched the water But the water keeps a record — every son, every daughter I'm the daughter of the ones who crossed the desert twice I know what it costs 'cause I know what it's like When the busters on the screen debate your right to breathe And the only thing they offer is a reason to grieve So I'm spitting this freestyle like a flare from the sea Not for the cameras, not for the clout — for the sixty-three For the khouti who made it and the khouti who didn't For the story that the headline always kept hidden [Outro - female] (The beat slows to almost nothing. Just the flute and the ocean.) Yeah. Dima Maghrib. But f*ck every system that profits off the crossing. From Inglewood to Ceuta. We all just trying to make it to the other side. (The flute fades. Only waves remain.)
