Paluch - Szaman

I am going in like a fucking shaman
To awake the spirit of war
A word for helpless, where the God hasn't arrived yet
The Last Shout of District will visit all the houses today
Open the window, may it carry dirty cobblestone to the living rooms
Smiling faces of politicians on the voodoo dolls
We are pulling rusty wire through their entrails
This is how every autohority which is deaf to voice of the people ends
Government wants a tax for your breath
Church wants money four your grave

Everything under control, authorities possesed
Yards are fucking you while lighting a gram
Attitude still unchangeable, a wall between us
We have a tribe on blocks
And every of us is a shaman, shaman / x2

You swallow the shit which press tells you
You swallow the shit which TV tells you
Only the real shaman will give you a medicine
He will show you the way like voodoo from Haiti
And our caste is still obsessed
Glory to combatants is remembered
A jungle from concrete, there's no banana youth
And only betrayers are hanging on the palm trees

Winter on staircases
Winter on bank accounts
Debt collector is knocking at the door, he's your governmental connection
You are letting him in while wearing new Kubotas
The only thing he can do is to tidy up
We have got nothing but the gas tank is full
We have got nothing but the cotton is warming us
We have got nothing, we have got districts
You know what's going on here? It's tribal riding

Everything under control, authorities possesed
Yards are fucking you while lighting a gram
Attitude still unchangeable, a wall between us
We have a tribe on blocks
And every of us is a shaman, shaman / x2

There's no fucking way that mommy will help you
Even if she loves you, she has got no money
She has been ignored by your pathologic daddy long time ago
If you won't earn, don't bear grudges
You are not a shaman if you don't understand it
It doesn't matter whether it is a trade or a legal job
If there is a fucking need you put on your suit
This is how it looks like, it's struggle for standard

Stop talking to me, because I know those yards
Don't tell me this bullshit, you are not from hood
We are like gouda and cucumber juice
You suit to us just like sauce to chanterelles
Boom like double-barrel, cartridge falls out
It's not a cream roll, beat as greasy as lard
You know it's a quality, not just a conveyance
Shaman of court
Best regards, Finger!*

Fellas have been overdoing for years, have been overdoing
Fellas have been flying to Isles, have been flying
And in the planes are only wagons of cigarettes, only wagons
Come back quickly and build houses, build houses

Everything under control, authorities possesed
Yards are fucking you while lighting a gram
Attitude still unchangeable, a wall between us
We have a tribe on blocks
And every of us is a shaman, shaman / x2