Mustafa’s Ugly Truth

Yeah

(hahaha) Listen up, Mustafa

You talk too loud on the internet street But you're looking down

at everybody's feet Turkish tea in your cup,

but your mind is small

Mustafa, you're not standing tall Staring at the floor like you found

a prize With those judgmental,

closed-up eyes

Mustafa's looking at the toes,

toes, toes (why?) That's just the way his weird habit goes

Talking big screens, looking at the floor We don't want to hear

your hate anymore (no more)

Claiming you're elite from the Istanbul coast

But it's your own weird quirks you expose the most

No room for others in your narrow head

But you'd rather count ten little toes instead (what?)

Yeah, we see the pattern,

we see the design Your whole attitude is way out of line

Mustafa's looking at the toes,

toes, toes (why?) That's just the way his weird habit goes

Talking big screens, looking at the floor We don't want to hear

your hate anymore (no more)

Keep your eyes up,

Mustafa (hahaha)

No room for hate here

And put some shoes on