Текст песни Парацельс - То, Что

Freed Django or prisoner you?
In the network and in TV, your eyes are attached;
We have our own program phone:
Jean-Claude-you gram;
Prime Time in the courtyards -
Who is not, and who is right?!
People - Cocktails of spiritual injury;
And a piece of sugar - salty:
access to the dream of the doorway already;
Your voice or codes stretch?
Getting used or cleaning?
Vatakatry - or stereo insidious? -
What knocks down from the feet of illiterate barbarians?
And we do not need laurels to us
In the rap game we do not play on anyone's rules;
throw competently - we know it like
I still, in my opinion, from kindergarten.

I poured out of my head
Sevened white sheets.
They are answers who I am, and who you are.
This is what I poured out of my head.