Текст песни Sorrel - Разминка

I stepped out of the house, stepped out of a coma
Only the gods are higher; I’ve found what I was seeking
Patterns were woven over years of hard drinking
But my juices aren't drained—Sorrel is on the mic
This sound hits with the crushing mass of a bison
What were you asking for? Were you waiting for my solo?
What were you asking for? Trade winds and monsoons?
Wondering where the wind blows from, and what it might bring?
Yo—nothing comes easy
Top-tier rhymes, top-tier flow
They’re sinking your fleet—it hit rock bottom long ago
Just like your girl; you’re rock bottom yourself
You won't be bored with me
This isn't some party with Scrooge McDuck
It’s a dance of the dead, caught in the octopus’s embrace
And your morning hangover is just entertainment for me
The unrecognized genius has finally snapped
Some guys just sweat it out, while I take flight
Some guys open their mouths just to spout bullshit
But I’m soaring—gliding high above them all
My crew puts everyone on the hook
Hit up Sorrel if your IQ is in the clear
This is my radio console—a place where the dying sing
And live out their final moments in song—those who are truly done for
Emerging from the cabins of all my ships—
Like skeletons tumbling out of the closet. I’m drawing a parallel
The dead fly out, knocked right off their hinges
They come alive in my flow, just to whip some ass
This is just a warm-up before the big release
Sorrel has unleashed the Calypso
Your rap artists are worse than soccer players
Bang-bang—hasta la vista!
A couple of fools—blow off some steam, friend
A couple of "trues" posting nonsense over on Rap.ru
It takes work to define your circle—not just to sit there spawning nonsense
To figure out who’s cool, and who gets passed around
Who’s a friend, and who’s a scumbag (yeah, who’s a scumbag?)

You wanted to conquer the City of Sin
But all you managed to do was rip your tights
You bow down and scrape before anyone wearing epaulets
And you can’t say a damn thing, 'cause you’ve got a dick stuck in your throat
In my city, nothing gets split fifty-fifty
My city is permanently wasted
You’d better call an ambulance, quick
Before your bones get fed to the dogs
The wheels are clacking
They’re hauling you off to hell
You can’t handle this, man
Neither you, nor that pile of skanks
You’re teaching the wrong lessons, bro
You shouldn't have swiped other people's stuff
Now go on—take your ride to hell
You and your whole gang of skanks
I’ll walk the path
I’ll shoot right through to the other side
My talk is all about rebellion
Forget their names
I smile slyly; I know the trick
It’s the chemistry of sound combined with my charisma
It’s a spirit resurrected under my aegis
I’ve turned the page and started a brand-new book
A new storyline for my new life
My cuffs are bursting, my veins are popping
They say I’ll never reach the summit
A pile of fakes—but I’m cut from a different cloth
I could have lived a different life
One of comfort and luxury
I’m letting you go right ahead and ruin your own life
And I doubt that’s a mistake
A couple of fools—blow off some steam, friend
A couple of "trues" posting nonsense over on... rap.ru
It takes work to define your circle—not just to talk big;
To figure out who’s legit, and who gets run through the mill;
Who is your friend, and who is a scumbag (yeah, who’s a scumbag).

Why did I come back? For your scalp.
You confused the *sky* with *Skype*;
You mistook an emerald for a pebble.
I won't die today, and I won't die tomorrow.
Tomorrow, a Land Cruiser will run you over;
Tomorrow, you won't have any teeth left to bite with;
Tomorrow might not even come at all.
So today—everyone back to their places.
The star has faded out.
I’m walking through my dreams.
Hello? Is that the Heavens?
Hello? Is that the Heavens?
Up there, nobody hears you;
The Lord’s got earplugs in and is already halfway out the door.
Down here, they drag the offended through the mud;
Down here, they don't give a damn about the offended.
You drag along a cross made of your own lies—
What were you born for? What did you live for?
I brought you a mask—here, take it;
If you’ve started lying, then lie all the way to the end.
I’ve warmed up pretty well after my hiatus;
Now I’m firing shots like a German Mauser.
I’m crystal clear, while the world is totally wasted;
I’m clad in armored plate.
Everything will come to pass, but not all at once;
The brand-new sketch is still a little blurry.
You’re caught in a vise—break free!
You’ll have to strain yourself—work like a Chinese laborer.
I am fused with the sun;
My name is Sorrel.
Amidst the sleepless nights,
You search for *weight*...
But I search for *weightlessness*.