My world is not the way it was drawn to me at the university
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My monitor and the texts in it - I'm tied in a knot in them
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I live in a strange apartment in the world, my fingers are not in calluses,
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But at 24 I think I'm 40
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Less and less songs are lit and more and more often they burn
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And it seems that my poems would be pulled tighter with a tourniquet
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Less and less sunk, but also in the studio to the full
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Time will judge - I you or you did not understand me!
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I don't want fame, they dance with me with a pole
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In my bright Poltava I write poetry on the 6th
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That mom, girl and friend will hear
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And after not coming to you barefoot, they will leave me!
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I don’t write myself - my muse dictates dictations
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Not a producer, not a poet, not a lecturer, not a narrow dean
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And I don't need to speed up. |
to see the truth
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I'm sitting at the table flying away from home at night
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I'm not so ill-bred to be considered street
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I'm not so on TV to be famous
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And just like everyone else, something knocks under the jacket,
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But only for me it knocks synchronously with the text!
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Take everything for my sins, but don't touch the verses!
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Destroy everything you have achieved in your life
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But don't touch my verse!
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Accuse me of lies and flattery!
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Me, but don't touch the songs!
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Drink, eat, score, everyone at the table,
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But don't touch my temple of words!
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I somehow realized late that people are cruel
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Like Aladin, but instead of a lamp, I have a genie in a stack
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It should be, but it so happened that I don’t drink, is it funny?
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Drink for life, success and health
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As a child, I understood what a paradox is
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They forbade us to drink and took out mom's brain,
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But on holidays, families with their father drank a toast for a couple
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“Do you smoke? |
There will be small growth!
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The smoking dad shouted: “Quit!”
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Then songs about it - Smokey, Castes and Cracks
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Monotonous techniques, inflated stories and remarks
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As in ecstasy, walking the product, we grew up as children
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What to take from us now, we are useless as a video
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Because of the song that I sang, who smokes hates me,
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But my rap is not for you and my destiny is not for you
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I'm not for you to judge, especially since I'm not the essence of the battle
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I sing my songs for burning eyes, then only
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So that they go, my friend, on the wrong roads
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I believe in them, I believe in the power of young hearts!
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Trample on me, but you won't be able to trample on my verse! |