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Sacred Haven of Debauchery

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In most cases, rap expresses feelings. For example, in my game featuring collaborations with Basta and Guf, here are a few lines:

Serious intentions, racing speeds, mom with questions:
- Where did you put your conscience? Become an adult.

I remained silent guiltily in response
- Look at your brother, isn't it hard to be normal?
They won't understand me, they won't change me
They wanted to break me - they won't catch me.

What is my fault?
I thought about running away from here, slamming doors angrily -
Offense is a nasty thing
Mom was breaking dishes and quietly crying
She was praying for me to God - she was lighting candles.

These are Basta's feelings. No one could understand him; his mother compared him to his brother, but he was just as...

Memories, it doesn't hurt as much anymore
Listening to our tracks, looking at old photos
Years pass, I'm twenty-seven
Just like you were back then, bro, peace to everyone
You were older, you taught me about life
Mistakes, chances, thank you for everything
Twenty people under the pier, their guy
I'm to blame, let's get this going, little one, don't worry
You said everything is in our hands
Believe in people, but trust only a few
Remember your mom, because only she
Will always believe in you
Play the roles that suit you,
Choose for yourself where to go and don't back down
And no matter what happens, remember one thing
I will always be there for you

Basta's brother died in 2006. This song fully expresses his feelings, telling how good things used to be.

Ice, ice ice baby, I will love you,
Even when I'm in heaven,
But for now, I'm here, and I'm in rap
And I love you, you hear, ice baby

This is Guf's song about his love for his wife. There's nothing more to say.

Besides just rap, there's rap that tells stories about events; there's no rap - it's just a stupid product of drugs; and there's gangster rap - a brazen tale of a scumbag about his scumbag life, a lack of weed, vodka, cigarettes, etc.
Пара банок пива, снаряд дешевого пойла
Ракета прущего дыма и море свободы
Серьезные помыслы, прущие скорости, мама с вопросами:
- Куда ты дел совесть? Стань взрослым.
Я в ответ молчал виновато
- Посмотри на брата, разве трудно быть нормальным?
Им не понять меня, не поменять меня
Хотели поломать меня - им не поймать меня
В чем моя вина?
Думал бежать отсюда, хлопал дверями злобно -
Обида-паскуда
Мама била посуду и тихо плакала
Молилась за меня Богу - свечи ставила