Текст песни Arkktik - 16 Проблем

I seem to be mine here, but I stand out like a child has gray hair
There is a lot of poison in this turnip and it will be eaten by rappers
I close your door like a latch on a door
You are not a master at rhyming, you are a master at holding a dick by the cheek

All mego gangsters around, pumping to the masses hustla shit
But the listener is diabetic and your rap is a little sweet
SD after double-time, like asthmatic - has little breathing
It is he who will suck the young on this battle, not me

You're almost saved - the contract for your souls is torn by god
Tired of being the hero of paintings, since then I have become Van Gogh
You don't breathe anymore, trust me - this is not a cold
I have your corpses, call the special forces to the morgue

You give up like apartments, your coach threw a towel
From these sixteen lines, your body fell dead
Do you think the topic has not been covered? But I don't give a shit to other people's opinions
In addition, the angels are preparing for you now, not for me, halo

Fifteen days away from home, plus one day of packing
Sixteen days without minuses and topics for selection
Sixteen stabs from the lines is my handwriting
You were operated on by me, you are like a pine tree, without kidneys