Mrka Kapa - Who See, Timbe, Majki P

Došli dani zajebani, masu para kad treba mi

Niko nema, svi sjebani, investitori krepali

Neki utekli, pobjegli, uštekali što su stekli

Neki se dobro opekli, a što čine Nojz i Kendi

Dalje se svira kurcu po Suncu, pa pa’ne vers

Snimimo kad ima keša, no smo uglavnom bez

Trpimo, trpimo, sve dok se opet ne skrpimo

A nekad nas neće, pa da sve na glavu dubimo

Hipiti-hopiti na taj mikrofon prdimo

Bez neke dobiti, al bar ništa ne gubimo

Nema veće banje no kad pokažu nam poštovanje

Kad kažu da znamo znanje i da rep nam nije sranje

No isto je vrijeme krajnje da nam zvecne koji cent

Koji dug da se vrati, da se plati producent

Čovek sam od mesa i krvi, što hedove iz kesa mrvi

15. već nemam para, a smara me da čekam 1

Nema leba od repa, ipak mikrofon uštekam

Da ne zvučim ko krepan, vers dobro izvježban

Ali isti je efekat jer na poslu 8 sati sekam

Ko blesav i njesra kad vidim dje sam

Mislio sam nekad da će da pane koja keka

Da se kupi nova Mečka od hiljada dvjesta

Pa da obilazim mjesta, no ću još pričekat

Pasala tries i neka i Bog zna koja sveska

Aha… ali šteta, nisam ti ja gengsta

Rabota teška, ma mi neće nikad presrat

I nije greška kad kažem neću prestat

Ili jebeš ga, staću kad budem prestar

Uze mi vers iz usta, stvarno ovaj prljav rep

Jebem… mrka kapa… sve je to krvav leb

Postajem grbav jer nosim emsijeve na krkačama

Rmbačim, teglim scenu na grbači

I ja bi da diram sisu, jedem tiramisu

Al idem žedan preko vode ko dehidriran Isus

Drže me na cedilu, sudbina je surova

Nekom je život majka, meni zli očuh surogat

Nema nastupa, zevam… hrčem il dremam

Gladan para i slave, krče mi creva

Crnčim, grče mi se rebra, postajem sedokos

Imam staračke pege, samački krevet ko Šerlok Holms

Nema Dr.

Watson-a, samo tužna violina

I sećanje na dane kad sam bio lima

Želje da jebem, da pijem i da ždernjam

A ne da se vucaram ko pijani daždevnjak

Aaaa, zvao me je Kendi

Da dodjem do studija da gostujem na pesmi

Aaaa, zašto Kendi, zašto?

Da sa’ranim si rep karijeru, dodaj ašov

Aaaa, napravi bit, snimaj

Cimaš se, cimaš ljude al koga briga

Kači na YouTube da ljudi klikću

Al neće kupe album i sve u pičku

Neće na cert ako nisu na spisku

Sećam se dana kad smo upali u priču

Tripovali binu i ljudi ruke dižu

A sad radimo za bedža, kao da smo piglu

Rekao sam Kendiju da ne mogu djemdo

Jer je studio u gradu, a nemam za prevoz

A gled’o sam na vestima kad bane kontrola

Oduzme ti pasoš i nabije na kolac

Džukci na traci, mi vuci samotnjaci

Imam gomilu bajatih redova, žao mi da bacim

Ja dižem kraci, i ako mi se nisi dopao

Izdavač kaže: «svaki tvoj tekst je piši propalo»

Deo sam prostog sveta, to mi prosto smeta

Ost’o jebivetar i linjam se još od prošlog leta

Razbole se lisica pa suši se ko grana

A niko neće sa mnom, samo crni gavran

Da, promeniću svet i sve probleme od pre

Da radim rep ko pos’o od 9 do 5

Da se gledam na ekranu, ne da repam za hranu

Stomak nemam zbog čega mi posle ždrela ide anus

Smotam srce u bandanu najvećem fanu

Kad ponude record deal rećiću im da sam ganut

Da se manu ćorava posla, ti si obrala bostan uz mene

Ja sam na zemlju poslat, tebre, da džonjam i oštrim pendrek

Reperski poziv me tera da spustim slušalicu

Osim kad pustim bit — tad bušim uši s bušilicu

Jer ovaj Sizifov pos’o iziskuje Tantalove muke…

Bolje da čistimo korzo kad su nam već pantalone duge…

I široke, a mlad ko goran oću u ruke volan od Cherokee

Ne tatkov, nego Bokijev!

Pa čekam neki ček ko Halejevu kometu

Dok sudba mi čekićem lupa ko Džeki Čen Ahilovu petu

I hvatam sebe kako gledam PETU ko metu

Životinje nose krzno, ja nemam ni za petu Corvette-u…

I jebem ti ovaj život — kurvetinu bez mašte!

Kad onaj takši i mekši taloži bakšiše u tašne

I čim se naložim i preteram s rime

Preteram ugalj ili tutanj na bauštel, lakše je

Iz ove perspektive…

The fucking days have come, a lot of money when I need it

No one, all fucked up, investors were dying

Some fled, fled, made up for what they had gained

Some got burned well, which is what Noise and Candy do

He continues to play with his dick in the sun, so pa’ne vers

We record when there is cash, but we are mostly without

We suffer, we suffer, until we recover again

And sometimes they don't want us, so let's dig everything into our heads

Hippies-hops on that microphone fart

No profit, but at least we don't lose anything

There is no bigger spa than when they show us respect

When they say we know knowledge and that tail is not bullshit to us

But at the same time, it's high time we heard a few cents

What debt to repay, to pay the producer

I am a man of flesh and blood, which kills the heads from the bag

15. I don't have money anymore, and I'm tired of waiting for 1

There's no beetroot bread, but I plug the mic

Not to sound like a dilapidated, well-trained vers

But the effect is the same because I work 8 hours at work

Who is silly and angry when I see where I am

I used to think that a cake would burn

To buy a new Bear of one thousand two hundred

So let me go around the places, but I'll wait

Pasala tries and let God know which notebook

Yeah, but it's a shame, I'm not your gang

Hard work, it will never bother me

And it's not a mistake to say I won't stop

Or fuck it, I'll stop when I'm too old

He took the verse from my mouth, really this dirty tail

Fuck… dark hat… it's all bloody bread

I get hunchbacked because I wear ems on my legs

Rmbačim, dragging the scene on the hump

And I would like to touch the breast, eat tiramisu

But I go thirsty across the water like a dehydrated Jesus

They keep me in the lurch, fate is cruel

For some, life is a mother, for me an evil stepfather is a surrogate

No performance, yawning… snoring or napping

Hungry for money and glory, my intestines are cramping

I turn black, my ribs twitch, I become gray-haired

I have age spots, a single bed like Sherlock Holmes

No Dr.

Watson, just a sad violin

And the memory of the days when I was a lima

I want to fuck, drink and eat

Not to crawl like a drunken salamander

Aaaa, Candy called me

To come to the studio to be a guest on the song

Aaaa, why Candy, why?

To save my rap career, add ash

Aaaa, make a bit, record

You tease, you tease people, but who cares

Upload to YouTube for people to click

But they won't buy an album and everything in the cunt

They won't be on the list if they're not on the list

I remember the day we got into the story

They tripped the stage and people raised their hands

And now we work for the badge, as if we were a pig

I told Candy I couldn't djemdo

Because the studio is in town, and I don't have transportation

And I watched the news when it took control

He takes your passport and impales you

Dzukki on the lane, we pull loners

I have a bunch of stale lines, sorry to throw

I raise my arms, even if I don't like you

The publisher says: "every text you write is a failure"

I'm part of the simple world, it just bothers me

I've been fucking around since last summer

The fox got sick and dried like a branch

And no one will come with me, only a black raven

Yes, I will change the world and all the problems from before

To do a tail job from 9 to 5

To look at myself on the screen, not to rap for food

I don't have a stomach, which is why my anus goes after my throat

I roll my heart in a bandana to the biggest fan

When they offer a record deal I will tell them I am moved

To get the job done, you picked a watermelon with me

I was sent to earth, you bastard, to jog and sharpen a truncheon

The rapper's call makes me hang up

Except when I let go of the bit - then I pierce my ears with a drill

Because this work of Sisyphus requires Tantalus' torments…

It is better to clean the promenade when our pants are already long…

And wide, and young like a goran, I want to drive a Cherokee

Not dads, but Boki's!

So I'm waiting for a check like Halley's Comet

While fate strikes me with a hammer like Jackie Chan's Achilles' heel

And I catch myself looking at FIFTH like a target

Animals wear fur, I don't even have a heel for a Corvette…

And fuck this life - a whore without imagination!

When the one who is softer and softer settles tips in bags

And as soon as I order and overdo it with the rhyme

I exaggerate coal or rumble on a construction site, it's easier

From this perspective…