Pioggia o Sole

A thick beat, the smell of cheap tobacco and expensive promises. Everything around seems to flash with neon lights: money, problems, the past that doesn't ask if you want to remember it. There is no time for sentimentality here - the words about survival are too loud, about how pride does not give up even where the sun is replaced by bars.

The music holds the line between street confession and bold bravado. In one line, there is a memory of pain; in another, a wallet full of “money, money, money.” And from this mix, it becomes clear: this is not the soundtrack of a beautiful life, but the rhythm of those who have learned to dance on the ruins.