lum pam l l la
lum pam l l la

aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
o mister ji o lala ji
ye na samajhna aapki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
rap pa r p pe rap ki rap p pa
rap pa r p pe rap ki r

hum duniya ke shehzade
footpath singhasan hai apna
dhidak dhidak dhidak
dhidak dhidak dhidak
hum duniya ke shehzade
footpath singhasan hai apna
bhukh pyas ki kami nahi
bas yahi to rashan hai apna
o beta ji ye na samajhna
apni kamai paap ki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
rap pa r p pe rap ki rap p pa
rap pa r p pe rap ki r

nal ki kami thi to hazir aur bijli bhi hai sarkari
dhidak dhidak dhidak
dhidak dhidak dhidak
nal ki kami thi to hazir aur bijli bhi hai sarkari
humse badhkar auro ko bhi jaan humari hai pyari
isiliye to hum kahte hai
duniya humare baap ki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
o mister ji oye lala ji
ye na samajhna aapki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai
aeingan baingan tali taleingan
duniya humare baap ki hai

Lulls of the low, a rhythm's sway,
Lulls of the low, come what may.
Eggplant, brinjal, on the fire they turn,
This world, my father's, we discern.
Eggplant, brinjal, in the pan's embrace,
This world, my father's, finds its place.

Oh, Mister, Sir, oh Lala, hear,
Do not presume, this world is clear,
Eggplant, brinjal, sizzle and gleam,
This world, my father's, a vibrant dream.
Rhythmic pulse, a heart's soft drum,
Rhythmic pulse, where shadows come.

We are princes of this earthly sphere,
The pavement throne, banishing fear.
Throb, throb, throb, the heart's quick beat,
Throb, throb, throb, upon the street.
We are princes, the world our hold,
The pavement throne, a story told.
No lack of hunger, thirst, or need,
This is the ration, planted seed.
Oh, son, attend, and understand,
This wealth of yours, from a tainted hand.
Eggplant, brinjal, sizzling sound,
This world, my father's, all around.
Rhythmic pulse, in shadows deep,
Rhythmic pulse, where secrets sleep.

Lacking water, swiftly we appear,
And government's own power, drawing near.
Throb, throb, throb, the pulse takes flight,
Throb, throb, throb, into the night.
Lacking water, we are there,
And electricity, a world to share.
More than ourselves, we hold so dear,
Another's life, casting out fear.
That is why we say with pride,
This world, my father's, far and wide.
Eggplant, brinjal, as the embers glow,
This world, my father's, watch it grow.
Oh, Mister, Sir, oh Lala, hear,
Do not assume, this world is near.
Eggplant, brinjal, cooking slow,
This world, my father's, to and fro.
Eggplant, brinjal, in the fiery blaze,
This world, my father's, through all our days.