Текст песни FireMic - На битах

I carry my tracks through the cities to the masses
Buy as you wish and divide them in half
If you hear this beat, for sure it blows apartments in your houses.
Bach Bach Bach well, if I fight then only on the beats (only on the beats)

I'm picking up steam in your eyes
I'm not a crest, I don't rhyme with a verb, I'm like Tarzan, here's my vine
I cling to it even if it rains or thunderstorm
I close my eyes to all the problems so far, roll, roll your punches I drag on my fingers
2K 17 I'm screaming over the radio! As long as you endure kicking in the balls
where is my calcium

I screwed up the cue ball and rolled the tracks under it
As spiders I have eight legs, I will probably be an executioner
I will execute everyone in the skate park will be very hot
Because my fucking smells like tartar sauce from my tracks and the essence is simple

For all those who doubt even for a minute
And yes, yes, yes, where does this pug still compete with me
This is no longer a game FireMic is now starting to catch the hype
Attack with your dissy, your phone is frozen, but it's not fashionable to dissy
pass the baton to another

I fight on beats and I don't care for advice I'm not going to give up
I do not care for those who declare to me in front of everyone they say shitty don't mind
No matter how hard you try, your punchlines will not be included in the new digest
Even if you catch up with me, you won't be able to overtake me in the charts

I’m like a map of the world showing everyone my continents
My oceans besides islands are filled with quality content
My life is a Nintendo game and I won't press Restart no matter what happens
I will reach the main boss and knock on his head with bats so that the neighbors never dreamed of

I load my magazine with cartridges
And let someone dare to say that my tracks are bottom
Your balls are smelly like your grime and rap
It's time for punchlines at 2K 17, where is my dep?

Such cultural bread, I have a cult of rap battles here
I want to give orders to all ms as in Chernobyl Dyatlov
All platypus woodpeckers are not destined to find places here
We're all fucking grime in the name of protest