ITALY

The sun on your skin, Italian streets under your soles - and a voice that rides the beat like a truck, scattering phrases and self-esteem. The mix of languages is like a collection of fridge magnets: a little boasting, a little risk, a little kitchen tenderness - the mother is crying with gratitude at the watchmaker's, and it sounds warm and strangely sincere. The camera of attention sometimes shows off the bling – watches, fitness trackers, "winning the lottery six times" – and then pulls back, leaving a team in the frame that resembles modern Avengers: lots of bravado, little pathos, but the feeling of protection is still there. Roughly, but with a smile: the words shoot into the microphone like military training fire, and in the end, it all boils down to a simple rule - don't carry extra weight when you already have enough on your shoulders. Independence as a mantra, glamour as decor, music as a diary of those nights where loud promises coexist with cosy irony. The exhale of hip-hop is a haze of confidence, under which it's pleasant to hide and for a moment feel that the world, though harsh, is still kind.