'ВНИМАНИЕ! НЕНОРМАТИВНАЯ ЛЕКСИКА!' I used to be awful, rough, stupid, deaf, blind an Spend my time partly useless, going down my life, rhyming, Pretending me to be the poet, sure was inspired, Only able to "motherfucker, fuck off" when I'm void; Rhymed some pride-less and pride-worth, When was angry said high words, When was satisfied used good ones, But heard like, yes, like curse; Would be honest, but lied sometimes; Eventually cracked, And when I finally needed one more step I stepped back, Fuck. It’s been Hidden Skill, even I’ve switched it off, And I’d lift em in the air, forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up, give it up, but my Power of Will Ain’t enough to end up and kill Hidden Skill. It’s been Hidden Skill, even I’ve switched it off, And I’d lift em in the air, forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up; give it up. All is like I was ill. Now listen up and hear voice of ill-hidden-skilled man. And feel its strangeness… The sounds are bit too quiet, then fade in this. Now listen up and hear to know how hard my faith to this is, You see I just imagined this. "No fucking good skills", I heard, But when all troubles were gonna catch me up I flew like a bird, Clinging to chances, Maybe the last ones, I'm afraid, Then I got an idea, rhymed it, looked up what I made And found it obviously nothing, so question is, "Am I… who?". Don’t you ever ask yourself that?.. Fuck it, I do! It’s been Hidden Skill, even I’ve switched it off, And I’d lift em in the air, forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up, give it up, but my Power of Will Ain’t enough to end up and kill Hidden Skill. It’s been Hidden Skill, even I’ve switched it off, And I’d lift em in the air, forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up; give it up. All is like I was ill. They all might say I’m stupid man – I’m ill hidden skilled. They say all my life I just try to controvert Whenever I ever have a chance to. Here’s chance to revert: One more time, again and again, over and over I was told I was quite misunderstood. Now I know why. Cuz when I see something you like you all hear my fuck at once. Controversary became my only damn streak at once; And rumors may say I'm bad poet that I plagiarize, That all I can is to talk smut – anyway it's my rhymes. And it’s my Hidden Skill, even not switch it off, And not lift em where I can forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up, give it up, but my Power of Will Ain’t enough, and I like I can’t kill Hidden Skills. Cuz it’s my Hidden Skills, even not switch it off, And not lift em where I can forget em – stop and enough. I’m fed up; give it up. And oh, yes, I’ma ill, But as for me, I really feel I’m well hidden skilled.