[Intro] When you’ve got enough, you feel like you won, like you claimed the win, like you gained the first place, like you put yourself on top. I’ve got enough, but I feel nothing like this. I’ve got all I want. I’ve got respect, I’ve got friendship, I’ve got Love, I’ve got luck. I’ve got last one enough just to sing, “I’m so happy and lucky, so much that no one can crack it. It seems like there on my neck is supernatural locket”. And I’m satisfied with my life, but… there’s still something wrong. All this time that I’m in this life, I feel like I dream, and this is a dream. I’ve been fucking sleeping when idea of that has come. It’s been the first, then there’ve been a rhythm, then beat, but I’ve been already sleeping for several minutes and words have laid somewhere in the midst of my dream, and I’ve forgotten almost every one of em. It’s Fuck, ain't it? Yeah, but I’ve been woken up. And I’ve begun writing, remembering only that… [Verse] I’m hauling me by the life, but feeling me like a stoic, Though going by my own way and still feeling some fucking worry As though I’m just choosing wrong one, so coring my choice and mauling, Yeah, mauling it, now I’m sobbing and growing up too much maudlin. Wall is closed on me - it’s soliloquy, hey, yo, I become a clown, Keep hating that fucking news, yeah, that news, which just keep me knowing What happens in world around me, still keeping my own feet going, Like scoring the winning goal or awakening every morning, Establishing new objectives, achieving em - fuck, it’s boring. Have I made mistakes here? Maybe, but I will be clear, won’t I? I go where I got appointed to, following THE-MAN-WHOM-TRUST, Like going his fucking footsteps and yielding to his damn BLAST, Keeping mind under dust, but sometimes it’s just not enough, Because almost every one of my classmates wanted to make me laugh Mocking at me and joking. For me it’s just ‘witty trick’ With the smallest amount of humor. To laugh it just gotta be More big, I don’t say be bigger, be eager if try to mock me, If point your finger at me, saying ‘angry beaver’, yeah, that is me. I am whom I want to be and I say what I wanna say. Take a look at display to see there some names of scorers: Backs, midfielders or forwards. Who’s the latest? It’s me; I scored one goal. Now it’s draw - it is 1 to 1 <…> What’s today? It seems to me Like I see a sea of people, a crowd begins lying to me, Like I lied to em, and, logically, we swap our jobs. I’m lied to, while they are liars. We jump to and fro like frogs And I’m fed up with that too much. I’m too tired of my bad mood, Cause of their jokes, and my dream was as if I said to em I would Be rapping my verses, at the same time saying, “Never wanna be rap star”. You accuse me that I am coward. Coward knows where he goes to, Leaving his problems and obstacles off - he’d live more than I. Once upon a time one man said, coward won’t never die. It'd kept my mind under dust before it’s looked like I slept, All this just seemed to me like a dream, but I ain't sleeping yet, Otherwise, I keep me staring up at ceiling, looking for dope, But there’re only stars fluorescing. My own sky lights up, Dying out in the course of the time like my hope was fading out – My hope to superstardom, until I stood up and went out, Went out of this wall, drew a door and then opened – Society welcomes me, but it fucking seems like a torment, Cuz I’m so weird, so I figure out bees in my bonnet Just to be not as an ‘everyone’. If you hear it, I’ve done it, Using tips that I’d gotten, Adjusted my life concerning these tips like pushed keyboard’s button. Now, it’s me leaving the bottom where I have locked up myself As if in jail until I understood that this is shit in itself And I gotta pull me out of my hell. Now, it’s me going out there, doing only thing I can do well – I’m able to write On nonnative, even not similar, language, but I keep me on road that I ride. I keep going following skills, found and awaken from dream, In order to say when I finish it, “it was written by me”. And nobody can say, “Look, I heard something like it before. Man, you’re like Eminem”. No, I’m like me. And what I’ma say then. No more. Only that I want a friendship, even if I’ve got it; Want more luck, in spite of me having the locket, But it’s too fucked-up and I fuck it, talking I want your respect – This that I have seems not real enough. I’m crazy in Love, but I wanna be loved. That’s why I’m too unclear and why my wall is closed on me. That’s why when I draw a door and go out I’m coming back in. I return inside my wall, built up on my complexes, Close drawn door, erase it, believing in my own house – There’s too many shit outside it for me. I’d rather be closed. It’s more comfortable to feel me those, whom I was supposed to be. I’m too lazy? – Fuck, I am and I will be, sleeping on sofa. I’m too unkind and rancorous and my shitlist ain't over. Am I coward? Yes, I am, fucking loser, but ain't lost. I just don’t give a fuck how many chances I have lost In my life. Now I’m writing like describing picture I’m drawing In my mind – you all see that on the scene where it’s being shown. Whether you watch it or it’s just as the background I’m talking. It doesn’t matter if beat has stopped, I’ma keep this ball rolling. It’s even better, cuz I feel me as not much rapper as poet, Fucking lyricist, who’s dropping down shit he ever supported. It’s night, there’s lack of light, eyes are too tired, but he’s going. He’s hauling him by his life, but feeling him like he’s stoic. Возможно, Вам покажется, что во всём этом нет смысла... Так оно и есть. Ах да. НЕНОРМАТИВНАЯ ЛЕКСИКА!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!