Pih - Radio Killa 66.6FM ft. Słoń, Ero

Słoń:
Pih, Ero, Słoń, this is a wicked Line Up
Your opinion about us hangs like Hussein's corpse
It's a drunken bunch, chumps are our target
I have a solid brand like the Nightstalker
I feel only disdain, nothing else within me
Fish are dying in lakes, and birds are falling from the sky
Black like ebony soil remains on fingers
Screw Step Up, you'll dance your last waltz today
Invite to the dance, I ignite a new fire
Applying powder from the crematory furnace to my nose
Kid, hearing me makes your eyes like Gollum
Like you’re running with fins in a minefield
I strike like lightning, don't play on our nerves
Only a pile of charred carcass will remain of you
Another one got hit, the console smokes
And with a smile, I close the cabin door

Chorus:
Every coyote knows what time it is
There's no motherfucker like us
66.6 FM is what you hear
Radio Killa, Radio Killa, Radio Killa
66.6 FM

Pih:
Sit modestly, you're not going to work today
You're spreading like a whore after a toiled night
For this music your old lady will kill you at home, buddy
Like a drunkard’s wife, you always fall down the stairs
What if it weren't for us? What would you do now?
Fry a pancake to the flight of the bumblebee
The only line-up like this is alkotherapy
Your damn psychiatrist calls me for advice
God spins the earth? I move the sky
He's arguing over the result during a coin toss
Drums are pounding, you grit your teeth
For losers, henna tattoos are already fading
Halloween mask on the face, evil to the bone marrow of Pihu
Stingy witch - trick or treat?
Our little game of hide and seek
I turn off the light, stab blindly, inferno terror
With me are degenerates, your daughter better run from home
Unless she wants to be an accessory to condoms
Sooner or later you’ll end up in a bag
But for now, your scream, the score of torture

Chorus:
Every coyote knows what time it is
There's no motherfucker like us
66.6 FM is what you hear
Radio Killa, Radio Killa, Radio Killa
66.6 FM

Ero:
Ero, Pih, Słoń you hear this Radio Killa
Each of us only dodges truth with dogs
In stations, hip-hop about Mamma Mia
Today all this doesn't reach us at all
I rap, what? I don't hit losers' tastes?
Gun in their mouths, they're looked at by a dick in the mirror
Your beloved doesn't let you in bed again?
She's like your recordings, silently sneaks out
Ready to squash a bug, I don’t care how you feel
You don't listen to rap, you only eavesdrop on it
Someone spits on you, you say it’s raining
You want to be a big fish, but a bream eats you with its butt
You know it’s 66.6 FM
A cold, mournful tribute for fallen MCs
Again I cut off your air, suffocating
From dust you came and to dust you shall return

Chorus (x2):
Every coyote knows what time it is
There's no motherfucker like us
66.6 FM is what you hear
Radio Killa, Radio Killa, Radio Killa
66.6 FM