13. Стольный Град - Кто если не ты
текст песни

Forget what was trained in, being a martyr, you can get out and do better the world, pick up full breasts and exhaling you will dissipate the smoke at least once ask yourself a question, who, if not you? Who will choose the truth on the grain of choice? Who, his brother admits where he was wrong? Having not stood in a battle, but with blood splashing glory and a screech in a veil of loved ones, steel is tempered for years and then he puts pressure on the backs of the weak, not in the rules of the game, will stand up to the help of a burden, and so from the hearts who are not past? Who, if not you? The chimes beat and it is increasingly difficult to breathe from the collar of the year and we are still waiting for the wizard of his freedom not to be exchanged repeated and repeat who, if not me? I need a chance and now give me the sky of strength, moreover, do not often remember anything about you, I asked you not to download, but I need a chance to take your destiny and now I need light in the dark where are those innocent hopes for the truth and the right to live like you I did not know, I did not know, because I grew up, without becoming a large hundred mistakes of my bent digging, the conclusion is not good to clap them in all my ears to learn them and listen to both here the majority of those who are not satisfied with their own role (you can’t forget) is quite a painful motive for that And look convinced, but it wasn’t the one in the circle of the path as if the locomotive to the station is the goal while the voice in my head is repeating who if you are who, if not you, you are steel, becoming embodied past a hundred geniuses without selling everything you call dreams *** who if you call it *** You didn’t echo me underground cats there in the adigunde to throw show -offs, I killed nights at the studio, it is so necessary and that I didn’t take it to mind there, I never took the lady’s fan of their turnips in the topic where it was behind their backs The walls of the Geta and the walls of the newspaper I wore a shift in bags did not hide the chirts in sneakers and being a small skirt chose the rolled rod of the MIKHTAM, for years from the darkness to blindly, if you didn’t leave my trace, I was stuck from the rhythm, I fought on a cunning rhyme shaved and secretive Hitman was preparing a hit on you, Daaa here from the game like milk teeth fell out of those who did not learn the rules of the club do not care from where and where do you compose dreams from a million chances who are not you Yar: I was nobody, a regular Kent. I have a fighter, and that success could only dream. Life stumbled knitting needles, the wheels spin and I am walking in one row. They wrote rap, reading for food. The paints of the cylinders, the walls are sheathed with old foam rubber, outside the doors 106, people in black hoodies make sound, and believe that someone will appreciate them with a Mike without knowing what a word (xenik) is. They said Sasha, quit. They said, this is not a thing. They said, rap is not serious. They said - the rap is not for the whites. And I do not emanate, but also got out of the bowels. This is not "8 mile", my 20 kilometer. I’m not white among the blacks, but I'm white among the evil, my world is rolling to the bottom, and I beat the devil under the breath. And it doesn’t matter who you are and from where, how much do you, brother, years old. If with us for one, know, we are going into the light.