FDT

It smells of concrete dust and cheap perfume of victory. The air is filled with smoke, the sound of engines, and a slightly hoarse voice, confident as if it knows the value of every phrase. Here, they don't wait for a chance - they take it with a bang, with a spark under their feet. And even though there are plenty of envious faces around, copying but not feeling, the difference can be heard even in the silence.

There is too much truth in these rhymes not to believe. Street philosophy on beats - rough, bold, with a hint of fatigue and self-importance. Not about dreams, but about how to mold style out of dirt. And while others argue about who is talented and who is fake, here they just make noise - real, with roots, with passion, and without apologies.