Now in the midst of tens of thousands of strangely staring eyes
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Brain dead fish on people's hook
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Those who want to be in Sansi Salvo volta with hell insurance
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Sans, with no choice but to write
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The charlatan who wrote his own destiny
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Bi', your soul wandering in the middle of the stanza
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This is neither the end of hope, nor the end of the war.
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When you think about it, what is always like this?
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And every year who always wins
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How many coyotes in the world do not run away
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Who realizes how many tomorrows I've built in my head?
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White
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I'm clear
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not look
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Get down, look
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Look, my forehead is white
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skin up
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run, run
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Because I have to write
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This is the assurance for tomorrow
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have to write
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Music played, thoughts every day
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i have to write
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Look at those waiting in ambush
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people are paranoid
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stop talking
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have to write
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This is the assurance for tomorrow
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have to write
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Music played thoughts everyday
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i have to write
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Look at those waiting in ambush
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Look beyond my paranoid
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Self-righteous traitors are always
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Sometimes overconfident
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It's strange, my ritual is always a physician, Salvo
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The devil's perfect, the perfect his own traitor
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So who will listen to me now?
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Now I'm on TV "let's dance" Rap
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I'll let the one who collapses into the throat beyond the arm, badi
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"Come back psycho writer!"
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I'll come of course
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Hey wand in hand
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table of rounds
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Rounds opposite, effort inside
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Let some of them stay the same, let the mind decide
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You know that good is generally not positive
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Because this is the strangest science and also the most royal movie
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Sometimes I erase my songs and pick up the pen and shake it off
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And this is it; |
Rap is resistance
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Has my long journey been a child's play?
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Have all the sheep slept, from the slum to the commons?
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Did it stop, wait, did the rappers get it?
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The problem is, did you have a dream, the game level is the hardest
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You tried and it didn't work, this is a gesture from Salvo
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Should the rapper follow the rule? |
industrial audio
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Not racist, but SS. |
my brain is cage
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It doesn't belong to a group and look, this is the best
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If you don't fit your format, hold my voice.
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He traveled on the ex axis because everywhere is a cage
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Accumulation in my head one two one two microtests
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One million masturbation means 6 million sex
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There is chaos in the city
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See chaos everywhere
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Leave your interrogation with me, take my dark soul, idiot
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Those who do this are either idiots or parasites |