Łozo aka Pitahaya - [pop]Kultura

[Kościey]
My name is Andrzej, I put away my gun made by Mauser
Next to me lie some slippers, under them there's Alexander
Elderly rapper? Thanks for the support
I cured the cataract, bragging about your crying
"Coolcat" say the brats - stop - I'm summoning Bydgoszcz
Speak out in this matter before they shout 'new idol'
Every year I see this happen and still everyone stays silent
So like Francis Galton I'll take care of eugenics
Trapped like Clifford Harris, and what's it to you?
There's no shortcuts, though they hang there in Allegro
I could spit out truisms like a polish Coelho
I despire middle schoolers, and they? "Yeah of course"
Paralysis digests their cowering ego at night
I give them an injection from the cover of Ego Trip Magazine
The rules in this changing room are older than Rick Rubin
Fall silent in an instant because the dandy jumped on the beat to shut the pissers' snouts (son)

[Łozo aka Pitahaya]
We've been poisoned with the stupidity called freedom
We've been raised without stress, so with indulgence
I'm from a generation that has no sorrow
When our father hit us when the neighbours were swearing
I'd send these SWAG-gy sorrels to a gulag
Erudition? "Your mum" the bookmark of the dictionary
The mental kindergarten of hipster wankers
Upload an ejaculation photo to Instagram with your iPhone
Fuck outta here! No-lifes put torpor into effect
Curing dysthymia with trolling on social media
Waves of teens in gates make an assault on chastity
By means of integration on their knees about hip-hop, then
Project X became an everyday motto
To half-bent hatchlings like the crew from New Jersey
New half-bent simpletons' trends are "SWAG"
Only 90's kids will remember, hit yourself on the head

[Junes]
It's the kind of complaints that it only gets worse
A good artist is one who's always starving
In times of abundance, everyone's a prostitute
Yesterday you were good, but tomorrow you'll whore yourself out
It's the kind of dependency that I'm certain of
Especially when you spend money light-handedly
People like that what they heard somewhere
Without success of new things like Emil Bleff
Experiments are mostly inept calques
Because tracks stiffen necks instead of swinging us
Do you remember the times when the King was still a negro?
How many rappers give you chills when they spit?
I don't know the antidote, I'm often repetitive myself
Though in the world of POP? The pop prefix is broken
Popculture is now an anticulture
So when I spit, I spit into the popkiller