ТвойВраг13, Mango Man the Machine feat. ShizZza Street - Bad Control
текст песни

We gather on an autumn evening, creating art and making it count.
We fly out of the fiery furnace, brewing up something brand new.
Still holed up in those same basement flats, laying down masterpieces into the mics.
You got hooked by the live broadcast—a sound ringing out like a bell.
It’s time for "Halla Halla"—respect to everyone, and to my city.
It’s the "ShizZza ShizZza" era—we’re waking up these minds.
In this kingdom of masquerade, the clowns across from us are falling down.
With my brother from the back alleys, we strike like a venomous cobra.
Whoever’s on the throne—we’ll bury them; our exit is straight out of the comfort zone.
Your whole game just fades into the background; we’re smashing through barriers, cracking every code.
Our style is relentless, always on point—we’ll fire a shot like a final kill-shot.
Like a kill-shot (a kill-shot)—everything sounds brand new.

(Your Enemy)

My brothers don't dirty their hands.
They don't front or stunt on every single moment.
The jabs thrown by my right hand validate every argument.
I’m sick of the fake smiles and bared teeth—all I hear is lies on people's lips (lies on their lips).
That tremor in your voice—I can't even capture it on paper.
A knock at the door—"Face on the floor, you bastards!"
The cops are shaking us down again over our schemes.
We take what’s ours, just like always, and make our getaway hitchhiking.
A year later, we’re in some makeshift shack, spitting hip-hop (our own rap).
How much did we have to live through just to write down a few words?
Unfortunately, we know the true definition of the word "rat" (or "mouse").
The rat skillfully tucked its tail between its legs, choking on its own selfishness.
But we’re still standing tall, still on the level, building our plans.
Here’s Plan A, here’s Plan B—we’re all equals here, and we don't give a damn who’s "in charge."

Your whole game just fades into the background—we’re smashing through barriers. We’re cracking passwords.
We’re going to create—and make it big.
A year from now, we’ll be in a makeshift shack at a pad, spitting hip-hop.
Just look at everything we had to live through—all just to write a couple of lines.