Let's beat the can, barrel, bottle of water
Let's beat the pulse of the artery in the street
Let's beat the palm until dawn
We're going to that square of naked truth
We're going in clogs, to Cubango
In the grip of the armpit's embrace on the bread
Four seven seven five half in the samba-funk batuque
From joy drag
You're disoriented, you don't know anything
Street kids and the new language Brown
Take my arm, shake my hand
Let's go to the funk swing at the lot
Di di he says, let's go with clogs, to cubango
In the tightness of the embrace of the armpit on the bread
Four seven seven five half in the samba-funk batuque
From the joy arrastà £o

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