Rafi - Pod naciskiem

Feel the chill of the pavement on your face
Hunger, the enemy on your back
Who has often hidden
A blue uniform, don't argue with it
I have a hearing impairment, speech disorders
And these eyes, sir, what's the matter with them?
We live under pressure, so
how can we respect the system?
That attacks when a person's vigilance falters
I would kick everything in the face
Like that Paris Hilton pipe
When the police can kill, call it a mistake
Later, mainly what I'm running for
My attitude towards them, there's no forgiveness
Because unleash them, and they'll start shooting at the crowd
These are the realities, dude, don't be scared
That's how it is here and now, greetings to my patron
And the topic doesn't change and has been relevant for years
Because for some, it's still difficult to get to the truth, my son
(difficult to get to the truth, my son)

Yeah, once, once, this

It's the Western front, son, a daily drama unfolds
It's a minor trauma, suspicious figures at the gates
The law is ruthless for us, young people are screwed
Police Big Brother in cities full of cameras
Under pressure like a schism, I confess how it is to live here
Because we look through the prism of a decaying system
Three bearded mugs in a green Fabia, guess who?
Who always puts their hands in your pants so eagerly?
I'll give you a hint, not a girl, just some stranger
Who caresses your balls saying he has such a job
Rather, I'd rather collect alms on the main square
Than take meager money for the role of a uniformed whore
The legal system is a farce, what's the use of supervision?
Cold steel cuffs, rear windows of police cars
Everywhere you can smell the Szkiełowski odor because it's a rebellious generation
People raised with an allergy to the blue uniform
We are under constant pressure, they keep fucking with us
We react with aggression because it's our defense
Fuck the system, spit it in the face of every bitch
Life under pressure in a country of people buried alive

Did you find green leaves on me?
Sure, take a picture and write it down
I don't give a fuck about what you have in those notes
Because I'm fucking high, so fucking high
If I knew when the ganja would come
I would remember that moment, because it would be an omen
That Rafi Degustator would be born
And it would last until now, meeting with merry jane marathon
And it would still go on, not just halfway even
And what, pig? I have 5 grams to party
And you steal other people's weed, hiding behind the law
And I have to admit, you're skilled at it
But no one can take away those lived days from me
Laidback moments, when rap music blasts in my ears
Even you, pig, with that foolish face
You can't forbid my cousins from tasting merry jane
You won't infect us with the valley, immersed in nature
What you're fighting against, I deal with every day
So what? You're bald? So stick it in your head, idiot
For me, laidback is more precious than gold

The police protect us, but who protects us from the police?