I copied the great, like many others,
I rewrote their lives trying on myself.
And, it seems, I was lost - I became another ID I
On the expanses of social networks itself confused on networks.
Here I look like one, but a very different style
With the Nimba, she was like the Messiah and robbed the horns.
I would be glad to lose everything in the battle and my paths to go,
But without saxes and copies are very scary to survive.
And here, as if in the chains a white ghost of Canerville,
I draw daily spots of blood different paint.
Got the grinding of my shackles, find strength
Go away, at least throwing the mask, at least once, damn.
But I carry my cross, passing nails clogging
In that box at the bottom of the pit, where the real me and
The outcome is predetermined, I will be like a swill,
Pierced by the lives of others, my script is copywrit.
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I fucked already whining, but from me and rushing
Lyrical hip-hop. Or rapcore.
If you smear snot on the sheet, it can and ride,
That kind of rock will be soles. Here is a pure rap party.
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Yes, you all went! This is my fucking success,
I rebel out of the fallen again - Orenbit Undead.
In me hundreds of styles and fucking innings
Call me Ben Stiller - Meet The Fucker, Bitch.
Let me in a couple of rhymes, which jerks off on Mirone,
Or a vehicle with told under Minor.
I am exactly kilotonna from Mars MS
Call this battle Orenhirosim.
This rap is angry, type, eh?
After all, I am self-confined as if Tech N9ne
And if you are infiring the pressure of these rock songs
Clear.