(english lyrics below)
Kako će glave sutra izaći pred glave
kad su jedne šuplje, druge nisu prave
Klikću se ekrani, viču se slogani, svetla na fontama, tuče po kafanama
Kako će sutra da se napune stomaci, kad vladaju divljaci, i piče narodnjaci
Zlastave na majici, hejt već po navici, žice na granici, drugačiji u panici

Da!!! Reperi lažu, skontali ste foru
Govedine ima k’o na Kočićevom Zboru
Fali tu azbuke metrike i sluha
Kad na rame okače se, ugrožen je njuh
je’n dva je’n dva, sada mikrofon je upaljen
Na bini isfokusiran po bekstejdžu razvaljen
Fitilj je zapaljen i dim kulja napolje
Kao u jazz. baru vidik je zamagljen
Pogled na svet je do duše jako bistar
Vidim šta se zbiva pa sve drago mi da živ sam
Priča teče ista, linkovi za Insta
svi bi hteli da im u centru stoji bista
Ne podiže se spomenik za liričarsku tugu
Uglomer za pojasom jer stojite na uglu
i kad ste na uglu tražeći sebe na googleu
Oprez da vam ptica se ne posere na vuglu

Kako će glave sutra izaći pred glave
kad jedne su šuplje a druge nisu prave
Klikću se ekrani, viču se slogani, svetla na fontama, tuče u kafanama
Kako će sutra da se napune stomaci, kad vladaju divljaci, i piče narodnjaci
Zlastave na majici, hejt već po navici, žice na granici, drugačiji u panici

I dalje guraju taj film kako više ih ne mrzi
Brašno je na stolu, nek izgleda k’o da pršti
bižuterija fejk garderoba
još iz onog doba dok vladao je Sloba
Tetovirana suza i kalaš je na vratu
Posvećen je bratu šatro bio je u ratu
Al vidim fejk kajle što se kače k’o medalje,
prvi tejk, drugi tejk al to zlato vam je fejk
To nisu vaše cure, ta kola nisu vaša
To pozajmljen je sat, to javna je garaža
To su youtube bitovi, to tekst je duha pisca
To trendža je s buvljaka , to nije prava svila
Taj desodorans širi samo opak smrad
Taj personality je border line glad
To nije pravi novac, u tim flašama je čaj
To na tvojoj šulji čak i nije pravi zmaj

Kako će glave sutra izaći pred glave
kad su jedne šuplje a druge nisu prave
Klikću se ekrani, viču se slogani, svetla na fontama, tuče u kafanama
Kako će sutra da se napune stomaci, kad vladaju divljaci, i piče narodnjaci
Zlastave na majici, hejt već po navici, žice na granici, drugačiji u panici

English:
How heads will come before heads tomorrow
when ones are hollow, others are not real
Screens click, slogans are shouted, lights on fountains, fights in bars
How will the stomachs be filled tomorrow, when the savages rule, and the folk music ravishes
Evil flags on the T-shirt, hate already as a habit, wires on the border, "different ones" in panic

Yes!!! Rappers are liying, you've hit the point
There is beef like ona Bull fighting parade
The alphabet, metrics and hearing are lacking
When they hang on the shoulder, the sense of smell is in danger
One- two, one- two, now the microphone is on
On stage,Iam focused in the backstage I am all wasted
The fuse is lit and the smoke is billowing out
Like in a jazz bar the vision is blurred
The view of the world is admittedly very bright
I see what's happening, so I'm glad to be alive
The story goes the same, links for Insta
everyone would like to have a monument in a town's square
No monument is erected for lyrical sadness
Protractor on your belt because you're standing on the corner
and while you're on the corner googlng yourself
Be careful not to let bird poop on your head

How heads will come before heads tomorrow
when some are hollow and others are not real
Screens click, slogans are shouted, lights on fonts, fights in bars
How will the stomachs be filled tomorrow, when the savages rule, and the folk drink
Evil flags on the T-shirt, hate already as a habit, wires on the border, "different ones" in panic

They keep pushing that movie how they don't get tired from
The flour is on the table, let it look like it's prime time
bijouterie fake wardrobe
from the time when Sloba ruled
A tattoo of a teardrop and a kalash is on the neck
It is dedicated to his brother, alledgedly, he was in the war
But I see fake chains that hang like medals,
first take, second take, but your gold is fake
Those are not your girls, those cars are not yours
It's a borrowed watch, it's a public garage
It's youtube beats, it's the text of the ghost writer
It's a track suit from the flea market, it's not real silk
That deodorant just spreads a nasty stench
That personality is borderline hungry
That's not real money, there's tea in those bottles
That's not even a real dragon on your shirt

How heads will come before heads tomorrow
when some are hollow and others are not real
Screens click, slogans are shouted, lights on fonts, fights in bars
How will the stomachs be filled tomorrow, when the savages rule, and the folk drink
Evil flags on the T-shirt, hate already as a habit, wires on the border, "different ones" in panic