Текст песни Номер 23 - Плагиат

Man, you take the mike and I take the ax
You rap and I chop hardcore
I decide for myself, blat decides for you
My flag is diy, your flag is plagiarism

So many em si wanted to be em si
And spared no effort to hone their style
But they lost their meaning, as a result of the mission -
Boastful disses and songs taste like mold
The undergrowth has not yet grown to the waist
But already playing bosses from Cosa Nostra
Rap, like, adult, movers on wheels
Nose smeared with "snow" - all serious
Mediocrity break bones, lose youth
Drinking pride, accumulating anger
The press gives them enough space in the texts.
The Battles deflated and became a fashionable mass
If vata is in fashion - do it to be in the format
Brother, hit the blunt - screw the talent
And I tried to mate on the knurled
For garlic, I myself suffered from plagiarism

There is not enough courage in your souls
And your tracks are quirky - it's quiet horror
But there is a listener with Bush's intelligence
On your feces, well, I plug my ears
This is something like a parody of a parody
Where every geek strives for a freak parade
Local "gods" do not take me to the deck
Because my rap is nothing more than pathology
You are all bastards - and it's not groundless
Not enough sharpeners for all of you, lads
But I'll wet you while the kidneys are in order
I'm not arrogant - I'm for a real hop
I know, braza, there is a maza
Solve the puzzle of the medicine for the infection
And I tear the ligaments over and over again
I send a signal: "there is still a mind here"