Zhen Hun Street: Awakening the Bloodline of the Great Ming Emperor

This world is not as simple as it seems.

Each person has their own fate, decreed by heaven.

Some are born to rule, while others become bandits.

If the road beneath your feet is not one you chose,

no one knows where the journey will end.

You never know where you’ll go or whom you’ll meet.

In my early twenties, I still didn’t know how to choose.

My heart burned with passion, and I never once backed down.

I never let go of my pride, and only now am I learning to be shrewd.

I’m willing to taste every bitterness and sweetness, but where can I call home?

I’ve begun to believe in fate, and gained a little respect for it.

I no longer long for peace, but what can I do? I was born stubborn.

I’ve begun to fight against fate, etching its mark into my heart.

Even if my hair turns white, I still refuse to believe it.

I’m always mocked, pushed to cast off my arrogance.

My heart is growing restless too, but I can’t bring myself to give up.

Still down and out, just as before, they’re forcing me to admit defeat.

I’m sorry, I can’t cry. I can’t bring myself to say the word “defeat.”

So many people are here beside me, keeping me company.

I’m afraid their hearts will ache and their brows will furrow, so I’ll win this time.

I blame myself for not being good enough, for achieving nothing.

Thank you for staying by my side through every time I hit the “6” key.

The light burning late at night is the voice of my heart.

From scorching summer to freezing winter, I never put down the mic.

They laugh at me for being stubborn and urge me to find another way to make a living.

At crossroads, I stumble along, wondering how to perform this kind of underground rap.

They drive me back step by step, saying I don’t belong.

You’re right, I can only shout out this kind of underground rap.

The trouble I’ve made these past few years can never be undone.

Stars shimmer outside the window. I’m only one of them.

Maybe I was born at the wrong time, but I’m still holding on.

It’s true I’ve run out of inspiration, and my dream is worthless.

I gave half my life to my dream and never fought anyone for it.

The faith I weep over now, I’ll surely speak of with a smile someday.

Curse me however you like, even damn me to hell.

I’ll still stand by my words and keep reigning supreme.