After the Second World War, Italy became a republic, and on 12 October 1946, "Il Canto degli Italiani" was provisionally chosen as the country's new national anthem.This choice was made official in law only on 23 November 2012. It's like I'm always found where the troubles at Drinking brown shit now I'm off cup of that Your girl's on me, what's up with that?
LONDON—Excitedly informing fans that the iconic pop group was back with more original music, Ringo Starr announced Tuesday that on June 16 he would be releasing a 26th Beatles album titled ‘Moonbeam Sunday’ with an all-new backing band. You know I - thug em, fuck em, love em, leave em Cause I don't fuckin need em Take em out the hood, keep em lookin good But I don't fuckin feed em First time they fuss I'm breezin Talkin bout, "What's the reasons? big pimpin, spendin cheese We doin - big pimpin, on B. big pimpin, we spendin cheese Check em out now Big pimpin, on B. The poet begins with È sorta dal feretro (It's risen from the bier) then seems to change his mind: leaves some room, begins a new paragraph and writes "Evviva l'Italia, l'Italia s'è desta" ("Hurray Italy, Italy has awakened").The handwriting appears nervy and frenetic, with numerous spelling errors, among which are "Ilia" for "Italia" and "Ballilla" for "Balilla".You got to pray to Hip Hop almighty, We bless the microphone nightly, Open up the lyric from inside me, It’s our calling that’s why we say, You got to pray to Hip Hop almighty, We bless the microphone nightly, Open up the lyric from inside me, It’s our calling that’s why we say… I once had respect for this game, but now this game of respect, Is sold to the highest bidder with some fame and a cheque, Now any layman can get respect without breaking his neck, Paying dues, time these crews started paying some debt, It ain’t lights and cameras, personalities on set, Distorting realities in their context, With no originality concepts, Who gives a fuck about a salary; this ain’t a popularity contest, Cos Hip Hop ain’t faking for ends, Hip Hop ain’t, Fading with trends, it ain’t rich kids playing with pens, It ain’t the clothes on your back, or the label on them, It’s where you’re at, so I say it again, It’s just my life cycle; music means everything to me, It’s just a fashion show, nah; don’t believe everything you see, Cos if our eyes tell us lies the truth is we’re blind, So keep on walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines. Now Certified Wise have got a hold of ya, We drop a whole lot of funk like Magnolia, We’re the freshest B-Boys in Nike and Adidas, We’re hotter than heaters and blowing up speakers, There’s no half-steppers, we far from a fake crew, We make rap music every Aussie can relate to, We’ll never take a tumble, we’re not gonna stumble, If you diss any member the result is let’s rumble.Either we’re all out, or we’re all in, And if we fall out, then we’re all falling, It’s the calling; it’s what I hear in my sleep, It’s that shiver up my spine when I’m feeling the beat, It’s that fear of defeat, the need to better myself, It’s the culture; it’s not about spreading the wealth, It’s forgetting the time when you’re perfecting a rhyme, It’s every drop of sweat that I shed getting mine. That’s just my life cycle, nothing matters but setting me free, Because my freedom and Hip Hop be meaning everything to me, Now face values and fashions empower everything we be, Believing everything we hear, and everything we see, So if our eyes tell us lies, then we usually find, Our visions cluttered by this scutter so the truth is we’re blind, It’s just poison food for thought for these delusionary minds, So stop walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines. Complex compliments the simple to complete this individual, Simplex the original, beat the hypocritical, Ridicule the weak with techniques that leave you burnt, Like cannabis or cheeba, either you do or you don’t, We’ll prove that you won’t ever endeavour to get it together, To better these fellas, I be like whatever, you get it? The reason Certified is Mr Nice with the wise guys. It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and B-U-N B [Bun B] Nigga it's the - big Southern rap impresario Comin straight up out the black bar-rio Makes a mill' up off a sorry hoe Then sit back and peep my sce-nawr-e-oh Oops, my bad, that's my scenario No I can't fuck a scary hoe Now every time, every place, everywhere we go Hoes start pointin - they say, "There he go! It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and B-U-N B Cause we be.. The first manuscript of the poem, preserved at the Istituto Mazziniano in Genoa, appears in a personal copybook of the poet, where he collected notes, thoughts and other writings.Of uncertain dating, the manuscript reveals anxiety and inspiration at the same time. It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and B-U-N B Yo yo yo.. " Now these motherfuckers know we carry mo' heat than a little bit We don't pull it out over little shit And if you catch a lick when I spit, then it won't be a little hit Go read a book you illiterate son of a bitch and step up yo' vocab Don't be surprised if yo' hoe stab out with me and you see us comin down on yo' slab Livin ghetto-fabulous, so mad, you just can't take it But nigga if you hatin I then you wait while I get yo' bitch butt-naked, just break it You gotta pay like you weigh wet wit two pairs of clothes on Now get yo' ass to the back as I'm flyin to the track Timbaland let me spit my pro's on Pump it up in the pro-zone That's the track that we breakin these hoes on Ain't the track that we flow's on But when shit get hot, then the glock start poppin like ozone We keep hoes crunk like Trigger-man Fo' real it don't get no bigger man Don't trip, let's flip, gettin throwed on the flip Gettin blowed with the motherfuckin Jigga Man, fool [Chorus Two: Bun B] We be.. The words were written in the autumn of 1847 in Genoa, by the then 20-year-old student and patriot Goffredo Mameli.