Африканские бусы - Oxxxymiron

〈Intro〉
Yeah, yeah

〈Verse〉
You're not the cherry on the fairy tale cake, don't praise it
The cream of the crop is left in the county seat
Can't you see the logic? I see you're new here
What's up? You're already under surveillance like a stargazer, huh?
In October, I knew at the Tsunami reunion
As a returning Chechen, I knew my tape would be right around the corner
You guys like to simplify, I like to complicate things
And I thought synth-pop was a gypsy priеst
Hey, I'm ready, wollt ihr den totalеn Krieg?
Ain't no crow's eye for a crow, so wink-wink, bitch
Someday there's gonna be a picnic in the sky
Left Eye from TLC, Fetty Wap and Slick Rick, one tweet
All the high school kids are studying Genius
I'm rapping for the Krauts like Zinaida Gippius' husband, hey
Borrowing images, sayin' it's all an homage
But you don't have your own sauce, you can just dip it in it
First you need a chain to make the lambs shine, and
Then the guards, so they don't take them off you
Then you need security from security
A roof for the feds, so they don't all shoot each other
Savage tastes from serfdom, throw them in the trash
Back to the roots, I'm wearing African beads
There's plenty of room for outrage
But I'm a rapper, my whole life is a cultural appropriation
Rap is like sex, you can be tender before and after
But while you're fucking, you can be hard like you're hammering nails in her house
Healed, he's fucking spiritual
But to the posers, I'm the antichrist and I'm Omen
And I'm Marcel Duchamp. I don't give a shit
You're not a fountain, behind the bar, I'm Mr. Rubinstein
I don't drink to a profitable business
I've sailed you around like Ivan Krusenstern
You're alive as Rosencrantz, hey, safe as Guildenstern, hey
My rap - Bundestag, all clear nicht verstehen, hey
Profile - Mandelstam, hey, in messeges - MORGENSHTERN
With unheard voices, sorry
Your opinion is very important to us, you'll get a call back
The charts are mumbling their nonsense on and on
I'm bringing back rhymes and punches to Rhymes and Punches
First, everything on the floor so they don't slip away
Then pockets, iPhones to keep them on
Then keep the lawyer out, plant the merchandise
So the fake witnesses don't yawn, but, uh
A and B, sitting on a media needle
Get their paychecks from the AP on the IP
We'll see who's obsolete in early '32
I'm changing the word “village” back to Barcelona, bitch