Russian rap should not exist, because all of russians hate russian rap.
It is a paradox, but russian rap and hip-hop still exists. :-D
Well hate is understandable, because many of hiphop artists have a bad flow, bad texts about "my rap is better than your rap" and very fixated on their little hip-hop world.
But (you guessed it?) i listen to two or three performers. And i want show one of them.
Noize MC. Just love this guy for him texts.For example, because of the texts about the police, he even spent several days in prison, really.
Next MV shows you realistic life of homeless people in Moscow. Warn you: after 3:55 an unpleasant scene follows.
Yea, and now i strongly want to translate these. Sorry, i know, my english is suks, but i really want to do these. Google translate, i choose you! Sorry.
"Ladies and gentelmans, for your attention please enchanting show"
"One, two, three , four"
"Haven't a passport
Start work in deep night and and rarely finish by dawn.
Сlear plan
Have for any day of the week, not excluding weekends and holidays.
You see dirt on my skin and clothes.
I want in the bathrom, of cource, but seems like i cant to get there.
Happiness in that place
there is no me, i want to go there, but
Haven't a passport.
Can't buy a ticket anywhere, no chance of walking.
Saw light in the end of a tunnel just being on the platform in the subway.
Good thing I'm not a wolf - so at least something feeds. (sending a proverb: wolves are fed only by their feet.)
No heels, no knees, no feet, no calves. Begging instead of the Paralympic Games.
How it's happens? let's keep the intrigue.
Forgot about my legs, I'm here to move your (legs).
(chorus)
Sometimes i was rock, sometimes i was can
flip the crowd just shouting a couple of phrases.
But fate is brutal, and now i am
Homeles who sing in underground, without both legs.
Sometimes i was rock, sometimes i was can
flip the crowd just shouting a couple of phrases.
But fate is brutal, and now i am
Homeles who sing in underground, without both legs.
(chorus)
Haven't a passport
Loking money in my pockets like looking sweeteners in grandma limonade.
Now i little drink
And give superhit, such that even the police will start to dance.
Gentelmens!
I know it's hard to belive, but in the past i was a superstar.
No one was booed me,
The crowd roared when I sang, but now
Haven't a passport.
No registration, no housing, no relatives, no friends
No belongings from the sponsor, no rider whiskey.
No heels, no knees, no feet, no calves,
Сrawling through my life just as the terminator crawls along the conveyor.
And to far from Sarah Connor.
Press crushes me, but my eyes stil burn. Here I sing the ballads and swear.
Come on, nonsense. All the F***n perfect!
(chorus) "