Эсчевский - Опыт
текст песни

I know May makes your head spin; everything that holds me here is this game.
My voice carries the sounds of these outskirts; I hear it whenever fear takes hold inside.
It might seem impossible from the outside—on the surface, everything looks the same, just the same old me.
I don't give a damn which of them is an OG; what counts here is the experience of an old-school soldier.
A volley of rhymes strikes at their legs; my voice is beautiful, like a sunset.
It doesn't matter how many people fit in the venue—their souls are burning hot, just like your ass.
I know exactly what she wants; my hunger writes in a familiar hand.
I smile at her by day, but she’s better off not knowing what goes down here at night.
There are many demons—a whole squad of them—etched onto my body like tattoos, a modest attire.
Your homies are total nobodies; all my brothers are better than I am.
My people are better than I am; all my groupies are better than I am.
Everything playing out from these outskirts happens while you guys are wasted on bath salts.
A massive shout-out to all my people—always doing good deeds, just like Salah.
I’ve got hundreds of sonatas running through my mind—while you’ve got nothing but a drinking glass on yours.
I don't know who you are—and honestly, I don't give a damn—whether your boys are in prison scrubs or your boys are cops.
I’m certain of this, whoever you are, Boba: it’s the name that counts—and it’s the experience that counts.
The name counts—the experience counts.
The name counts—the experience counts.
The name counts—the experience counts.
The name counts—the experience counts.
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)
(The name counts—the experience counts.)