Dежавю - ХиПпи-ХоП
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1 Куплет:
Куча аллегорий, стопка афоризмов,
На эшафот за фразы, в опере только призрак.
Люди жаждут зрелищ, но где ваш импресарио?
Пустил на вас ток\Восток, ошибся полюсами он.
Вы на пороге Хип-Хопа, но там рэп-цербер,
Дежавю довел до ручки вас и вы открыли двери.
Ваш зарифмованный мир, дешево-абстрактен,
И хиты выдает лишь ваш гострайтер.
Единаличный Style "Никому не верь",
Каждый сам себе кумир-Дориан Грей,
Ваше Бла-бла-бла исправлять уже поздно,
И лучше бы читал ваш внутренний голос.
Я достучусь до верхов, дабы предать контраст,
Мой рэп поднимет мертвых-спиритический сеанс.
Я выжму все из вас на максимум до талого,
А потом возьму рэп ваш и сожгу дотла его.
Припев:
Как бы вы не бежали, ваша удача спит,
От судьбы не убежать, это опасный спринт.
Эволюция текста для зрителя это ход?
Ваши сопли превратили рэп в ХиПпи-Хоп.
2 Куплет:
Покуда я ранен и перебинтован,
Битами и стопками перебитовок.
Мой трек на реппит он вас перебил током,
Ты берегись там впереди стоп А!
Ваш монстер на постер, ему поздно на остров,
И вот подступ он острый, ваш флоу толстый и просто.
Он не влезет в репак, будет плесень съедать,
Надо лезвий сюда,ты для крейзи путан.
Ты с этим флоу тут бездарен, им мне влом вам фристайлить,
Рэп мой в окнах изданий,ведь мой флот из деталей.
Мое батл и панчи, ваше госпел и скитом,
Поразить хотите, но я хейтер вы хипстер.
Вы якобы МС, лишь бы в микро брякать,
Раз вы музыканты, то вам оркестровая яма.
Да какой там слух, не видать вам нот,
Медведь наступил на ухо-Вангог.
Вам испытание парашутистов, типо шутер,
Но вся загвоздка в том, что вам не дали парашута.
1 Coupling:
A bunch of allegories, a pile of aphorisms,
On the scaffold for phrases, only the ghost in the opera.
People crave spectacles, but where is your impresario?
She launched a current of the current \ east, he was mistaken poles.
You are on the threshold of hip-hop, but there Rap-Cerber
Dejaulu brought you to the handle and you opened the doors.
Your famous world, cheap-abstract,
And the hits give only your Gostourier.
United Style "Nobody believe",
Each Himir Dorian Gray itself,
Your blah blah blah fix it is too late
And it would be better to read your inner voice.
I'll get to the tops in order to betray the contrast,
My Rap will raise a dead-spirit session.
I lick all of you to the maximum to Talah,
And then I will take your rap and burn him down.
Chorus:
No matter how you run, your luck is sleeping,
From fate not to escape, it is a dangerous sprint.
Evolution of text for the viewer is this move?
Your snot turned rap in hippie hop.
2 verse:
As long as I was injured and recalculated,
Bits and stacks of polls.
My track for recking he interrupted you
You're still there in front of stop a!
Your Monster on the poster, he is late to the island,
And now it's sharp, your Flea is thick and simple.
He will not fit into the repack, will be mold to eat,
We need to blades here, you're confused for Crazy.
You with this Flower here is a member of them, I am a lift to you freestyle,
My rap in the windows of editions, because my fleet from the details.
My Battle and Panchi, your gospel and a sketeer,
You want to hit, but I am Hayter you hipster.
You supposedly ms, just in micro brightened,
Once you are musicians, then you are an orchestral pit.
Yes what a hearing is there, not see you notes,
The bear has come to the ear-wangog.
You test parachutists, type shooter,
But the entire snag is that you did not give a parashite.
A bunch of allegories, a pile of aphorisms,
On the scaffold for phrases, only the ghost in the opera.
People crave spectacles, but where is your impresario?
She launched a current of the current \ east, he was mistaken poles.
You are on the threshold of hip-hop, but there Rap-Cerber
Dejaulu brought you to the handle and you opened the doors.
Your famous world, cheap-abstract,
And the hits give only your Gostourier.
United Style "Nobody believe",
Each Himir Dorian Gray itself,
Your blah blah blah fix it is too late
And it would be better to read your inner voice.
I'll get to the tops in order to betray the contrast,
My Rap will raise a dead-spirit session.
I lick all of you to the maximum to Talah,
And then I will take your rap and burn him down.
Chorus:
No matter how you run, your luck is sleeping,
From fate not to escape, it is a dangerous sprint.
Evolution of text for the viewer is this move?
Your snot turned rap in hippie hop.
2 verse:
As long as I was injured and recalculated,
Bits and stacks of polls.
My track for recking he interrupted you
You're still there in front of stop a!
Your Monster on the poster, he is late to the island,
And now it's sharp, your Flea is thick and simple.
He will not fit into the repack, will be mold to eat,
We need to blades here, you're confused for Crazy.
You with this Flower here is a member of them, I am a lift to you freestyle,
My rap in the windows of editions, because my fleet from the details.
My Battle and Panchi, your gospel and a sketeer,
You want to hit, but I am Hayter you hipster.
You supposedly ms, just in micro brightened,
Once you are musicians, then you are an orchestral pit.
Yes what a hearing is there, not see you notes,
The bear has come to the ear-wangog.
You test parachutists, type shooter,
But the entire snag is that you did not give a parashite.
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