(Acoustic guitar strumming)
Yoh... ayy.
From the dusty streets of Lusaka,
We kick the ball, we chase the dream.
I wake up early in the morning, barefoot on the clay,
Kicking plastic balls, we do this every single day.
They say it’s just a game, but it's the life we pray,
Chasing after glory, making everything okay.
Omo, the passion in our chest is burning bright,
We play until the sun goes down into the night.
This is my first love, this is my soul,
On the pitch of gold, we score the goal.
Chipolopolo, carry our hope so high,
We touch the sky, ayy.
No boza, this is real, the passion we feel,
Natotela for the game.
From Kitwe down to Ndola, we hear the people scream,
Eleven men on the grass, carrying a nation's dream.
Mayo! The tension deep inside is getting real,
But we play with a heart of copper and steel.
No matter the pain, we rise up again,
For the love of the game, yeah.
This is my first love, this is my soul,
On the pitch of gold, we score the goal.
Chipolopolo, carry our hope so high,
We touch the sky, ayy.
No boza, this is real, the passion we feel,
Natotela for the game.
Just a boy and a ball...
Lusaka dreams.
Yoh... we keep running.
Natotela.