Scat - Дневники психа - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I fell a lot, falling is a dream, falling is a memory

That's how your damn standard fell, stop crying, although we spent it,

You're just a loser, a tough loser, a loser squared - a loser

You'll never get what you deserve here, Hachiko

You can't stop him in the lyrics, there's street credibility

I'm predicted to win here, you're not Dre or P.Diddy here

Don't be annoying here, mommy calls me home by nine, maximum by ten

People listen to my tracks online, and you on DVD, maximum on Sit, sit for now, little one, in your passion dick

Do you like to show off? Do you scream loudly? here's your chance

I don't give a shit about anything, I'm for a different culture here - renaissance

I don't give a shit about your a-po-str-f-s either, to be in a couple with me

For you, ka-ta-stro-fa, for me, beat-cap-lines

The ribs of my talent are broken

Your tracks are from the heart, mine are from the pussy, your rap is fucked up

I made lyrics that touched people's hearts

But if in a battle I, pomp, you're fucked

I fill in the blanks, I put dates

Dashes, dots, numbers, candidates for elimination

I throw spokes in the wheels, tracks like a whirlwind

You were lucky to get into the diary of a psycho today

Are you a rap psycho? then it's clear why you're writing a diss about us

I'm not crazy about you, I'm listening to cognitive dissonance

There's no flattery in the text, so let's all run away together

Dry your oars, you're annoying your beast, you know, demons belong here

What is your text about, Pompil, what does it mean, faggot?

I used to draw mountains as a kid, roll them up and throw them away

Everyone is into trap, it's like wild flirting or like a quiet tiger on Walking Street

And I'm small in appearance, I'm not used to being rude to myself, my vis-a-vis is used to living without offense

This music came from the streets, our rhymes are strictly honed

Choose me, I'll chop up a flock of sheep, hey, get off the road, let's go to the side of the road

I write angry rap. I've been at battles for half my life

There will be the 22nd century. I'll write my text in the grave, fuck

Go kill the Nords and don't open your throat where your mouth is already full of dicks I'm hot you're a flood

Sound on the wires rightfully gave here to raise the level of female flood with the habits of battle rap I'll put you back on a leash brother