More songs by Shellerini
More songs by Chris Carson
Description
The heavy air of courtyards, where concrete holds other people's stories, and fingers tap on keys as if checking a pulse. It's not about fame or signs here - it's more about the desire to dissolve, so that only sound remains, and those who still carry anger and loyalty in their hearts. The atmosphere is thick, like smoke after a Molotov cocktail, but light still breaks through - tears that suddenly turn out to be not from pain, but from happiness. Music that doesn't show off, but breathes along with the street.
Lyrics: Shelleryni
Music: Chris Carson
Mixing/Mastering: Bartosz Naperalski
Vocals: Max Sliwinski
Video: Shershen
Lyrics and translation
Original
Nie po to, by trafić na afisz, tylko zniknąć.
To dla ziomali, którzy w sobie wciąż noszą gniew.
Nic ani łatwo, ani szybko nam nie przyszło, a na najchujowszą aurę mamy więcej niż GORE-TEX. Nie po to, by trafić na afisz, tylko zniknąć.
To dla ziomali, którzy w sobie wciąż noszą gniew.
Nic ani łatwo, ani szybko nam nie przyszło, a na najchujowszą aurę mamy więcej niż. . .
W Pogo mogę wejść w fetrze i w mokasynach.
Możesz mnie szukać po projektach, nie po kasynach. Jestem po drugiej stronie sali, gdzie ta proza życia. Wesele w Cannes, ale
Luka na mnie, Mona Lisa. To nie Hurgada all inclusive, wóda, kola, syna.
Chociaż powietrze ciężkie tu to coś nas trzyma.
Palce skaczą po klawiszach, tak nam droga mija, a w oczach łzy mam to ze szczęścia. Niech los nam sprzyja.
Po osiedlach flow się rozlał.
Tu, gdzie najkrótsza droga to od bruderschaftów do zdrad. Podkładam ogień. Pachnie tu tym samym od lat. Powtarzam to ciągle.
Dym się zadomowił w nozdrzach. Ognia więcej, chłodu mniej. Mordo, to frostpunk.
W jednym z bloków typu kopiówkę parzy gorączka.
W cieniu jak tęczu, gdzie chorzy w tęczu widzą twarz. Po szyję w tuszu nurkuję w biegu. Ty co ćpasz?
Nie po to, by trafić na afisz, tylko zniknąć. To dla ziomali, którzy w sobie wciąż noszą gniew.
Nic ani łatwo, ani szybko nam nie przyszło, a na najchujowszą aurę mamy więcej niż GORE-TEX. Nie po to, by trafić na afisz, tylko zniknąć.
To dla ziomali, którzy w sobie wciąż noszą gniew.
Nic ani łatwo, ani szybko nam nie przyszło, a na najchujowszą aurę mamy więcej niż. . .
To nie jest rap. To jakbyś w nos z łokcia dostał.
Drobny jak Pogba strzał z overtona okno. Koktajl to Mołoto.
Widzę konsekwencja zła jak Tochman i scenę wrzucam do plastiku, do bio. Popijam do piona na ramkach, nie na Soho.
Gdy nie odpalam szkiełka, to się nie mam spinać. O co?
W stylówach homegrown jestem stąd jak boho boko. Pod sopą Mont Blanc, a to wysoko.
Maluję noc na ogień, patrzę w czarnych okularach. Wokół drama, jakby strzał w Columbine padł.
To pierwsza zapisana kartka dawno porzucona. Chcą mówić nam, że po pucharach?
No to kurwa patrz.
English translation
Not to get on the poster, but to disappear.
This is for the guys who still have anger inside them.
Nothing came easy or fast for us, and we have more than GORE-TEX for the worst weather conditions. Not to get on the poster, but to disappear.
This is for the guys who still have anger inside them.
Nothing came easy or fast for us, and we have more than enough to cope with the worst weather conditions. . .
I can go to Pogo in sweat and loafers.
You can look for me by projects, not by casinos. I'm on the other side of the room, where the prose of life is. A wedding in Cannes, but
Luka on me, Mona Lisa. It's not Hurgada all inclusive, vodka, kola, son.
Even though the air is heavy here, something holds us together.
My fingers are jumping on the keys, the way is going by, and I have tears in my eyes because of happiness. May fate favor us.
The flow spread throughout the housing estates.
Here, where the shortest path is from dirty tricks to betrayals. I'm setting the fire. It's smelled the same here for years. I say this all the time.
The smoke settled in my nostrils. More fire, less cold. Damn, it's frostpunk.
In one of the copy rooms there is a fever.
In the shadow like a rainbow, where the sick see a face in the rainbow. I'm up to my neck in ink while running. What are you taking?
Not to get on the poster, but to disappear. This is for the guys who still have anger inside them.
Nothing came easy or fast for us, and we have more than GORE-TEX for the worst weather conditions. Not to get on the poster, but to disappear.
This is for the guys who still have anger inside them.
Nothing came easy or fast for us, and we have more than enough to cope with the worst weather conditions. . .
This isn't rap. It's like being hit in the nose by an elbow.
Small as Pogba, shot from the overton window. The cocktail is Mołoto.
I see the consequences of evil, like Tochman, and I throw the scene into plastic, into bio. I drink heavily on frames, not in Soho.
If I don't fire the glass, I don't have to tense up. About what?
When it comes to homegrown styles, I'm like boho boko from here. Under the foot of Mont Blanc, and that's high.
I paint the night on fire, I look with black glasses. There is drama all around, as if the Columbine shot had been fired.
This is the first written piece of paper, long abandoned. Do they want to tell us that after the cups?
Well, fucking look.