TERAZ ALBO NIGDY

His pulse seems deliberately elevated: beneath his skin lies steely determination, on his lips a caustic smirk, and in his pocket an imaginary Rolex. The narrative is like the diary of a street warrior, where every stroke is a trace of falls and blows, and every joke about wealth and chains sounds like a shield and is akin to a prayer. The vocals cut through the silence, as if scattering old grievances in the wind, and in this noise, one can sense an ironclad belief: get up while you're still breathing, and don't reach for the applause of others.

There is a warm touch of self-irony in this wheeze: loud words about gangster “banks” and great victories coexist with an honest admission of coming “from the bottom.” The fighting glint of the chain and the predatory barking around him are not only a threat, but also a mask behind which hides a tired but stubborn courage. The music inspires: it's time to stop waiting for favors - it's time to bare your teeth, but don't forget to smile at yourself in the mirror.