Download the track city under the sole. Lyrics of the song – City under the sole (Oksimiron). Touring without embellishment in the video “City under the sole”

Friends! Please note: in order to correctly correct the lyrics of the song, you need to highlight at least two words

The song, which is already well known to visitors to the artist’s concerts, was only officially released on September 21, 2015. Along with the premiere of the new video, details of the mini-concert tour with stops in Kyiv, Voronezh, Volgograd, Saratov, Samara, Ufa, Yekaterinburg, Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk were announced.

“City under the sole” - from Oksimiron for all fans!

Video made and produced by Fancy Shot (fancyshot.com)
Director - Martim Condeixa
Producer - Dmitry Muravyov
Art director - Petr Bondarenko
Director of Photography - Leandro Ferrão
Lyrics to the site!

[Verse 1]
Is it the Don, is the Volga flowing? Knapsack - on the shoulder
Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count
Long dusty comb, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise
We believe - you'll be lucky, our beds are portable
There are two ways for a minstrel: a corporate party or an apartment party
The schemes are of the same type. Everyone's an MC now
After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here
Now rap is multi-party. Having spawned battles
I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?”
I would enslave all rap, but I'm always on the road
The industry has a nervous tic, Valocordin has angina pectoris
Convene the court, but the winners are not judged
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became human
Don't fuck around! I put it on you, servants, five times
After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Past poplars and ripe grain fields
Where are Yesenin’s ghosts, the cross, the prayer service, the oil
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it
We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not an Aquarius
Our land drowns singletons like puppies
Was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchi, Ilya - more than family
I made a bomb at night as hard as I could
I wanted so much to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get to know every second one
I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member
AY! Spare me your panaceas
Homemade Paracelsus, because for me *throwing around is an end in itself
Tired? We don't give a damn, Tony Stark, as standard
A couple of countries, highways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad
Passports, stage noise, in great demand
Whether on the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar (You know!)

[Chorus]
All my rap, in short, is about the fact that
Which year is which city under the sole
Uphill when rushing. Then downhill when you feel sick
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole
City under the sole, city under the sole
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom
You live under your heel, I have a city under my sole

[Verse 3]
Give me strength here, don’t collapse or break
There is a route and there is a settlement on the route
And they are waiting for us there today. Whiner, don't be feminine
Ruslan has travel soundtracks on his deck
Again it's sleepy, again it's before dark
Armored again, road again, bag on your back
Everything is in a hurry, the field is shitty, raining, cloudy
Bridge to Asgard - after, just let him be lucky with transport
I make every verse a self-portrait
An hour to check, rapping like a speech therapist under stress
Stencil on parapets: logo on the wall everywhere
My teaching is for everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “Good”
They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance missions with him.”
I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test (Houmie, know!)

[Chorus]
My rap, in short, is about the fact that
Which year is which city under the sole
Uphill when rushing. Then downhill when you feel sick
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole
City under the sole, city under the sole
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom
You live under your heel, I have a city under my sole

WATCH THE VIDEO OF THE LIVE PERFORMANCE!

Oxxxymiron - City under the sole.
September, 2015.

Almost two years have passed since the release of the album “Gorgorod” and the cult track “City Under the Sole,” and discussions regarding the content of the songs and the image of the artist himself do not stop. Numerous references to images and quotes are heard not only in the Internet environment, but also from the sites of rap battles, starting with the phrase ST: “My irony of fate is your “City under the sole”, and ending with many punches - rhymed caustic battle lines - of Slava CPSU addressed to Oxy himself and his work.

The latest rap battle between Oksimiron and Gnoyny (aka Slava CPSU, Valentin Dyadka, ButerBrodsky...) already received more than 3 million views in the first night after its publication. For the first time in the history of rap competitions, the headlines of all major Russian (and some foreign) media were literally bursting with words about Oksimiron’s “historical defeat” and the advancement of the Russian rap subculture to a new level. What was previously known only among young people (and even then, not to everyone), suddenly became known to almost every person who at least somehow tried to “be in the know.”

From the first minutes of the 1st round against Oksimiron, Slava CPSU positioned itself as the gravedigger of the “pseudo-king of Russian rap” (“As a creator, you died and do not deserve the fame of a cult rap singer”; “Your Oxxxy is an inflated figure, like a glass cockerel”) and consistently discredited – in his usual “anti-hype” style, aimed at fighting PR and popular MCs – the very fact of the confrontation between the performers as a duel between the “king and the jester.” The bottom line is that the battle generated not only discussions on Ekho Moskvy with an analysis of “rap poetry” from modern journalist and poet Dmitry Bykov, another interview with Yuri Dud with the recent winner and many memes with the phrase: “Easy, easy. Reel current. Sink about it,” but also a desire to understand the reasons for Oksimiron’s defeat.

In order to assess the outcome of a particular confrontation with an unexpected result - be it a military battle, a football match or a rap battle - you need, without taking into account external factors, to evaluate only one thing: whether the loser was obviously weaker, and the one who won is head and shoulders stronger? And analyze either the person of the winner, who confirmed his class (Glory to the CPSU, a true battle performer), or the person of the opponent. At the moment, quite a lot has been said about Gnoyny and his battle style, his dubious nihilistic-postmodern creativity. Obviously, it’s worth looking at the outcome of the battle from the other side – Oksimiron’s side – and discerning the underlying reasons for his fiasco.

Why did I lose? Because, as in previous battles, I went into lyrical digressions, which are really interesting for me to write, as opposed to the endless “setup-punch, setup-punch.” Perhaps in my life I’ve been too fixated on the fact that I once influenced battle rap - but instead I myself should learn from the battle artists, whose world has since grown into something different and independent.

This is what Oksimiron wrote on Instagram, explaining the outcome of the battle. In fact, this rebuke is a kind of return and allusion to the well-known lines of “Cities Under the Sole.” Let's turn again to the source text so that, after analyzing the lines, we can ultimately understand why Oksimiron is “fixated” on his leading role in the world of battle performers.

First verse

From the very beginning of the first verse, the listener finds himself in motion and hits the road with Oksimiron and his troupe: he literally “hacks” his soul with a small crowbar - a crowbar - and hurries to tell the world his views. The word “ches” in this context can be perceived as a large number of concerts in a short period of time, which is why the entire “van is filled with boxes of merchandise,” that is, branded paraphernalia. However, besides the concert, the average performer - the modern “minstrel” (poet-musician of the Middle Ages) - has, in general, only two options: perform for free at apartment buildings or “entertain the people” at corporate events. But the heart, of course, wants more. Eager to prove that Oxy and his team are the “first Cro-Magnons,” primitive people who became “homo sapiens” (the following is a play on words: Oxy “protrudes” strongly and successfully, just as the jaw of the ancient man Pithecanthropus “protrudes” from his mouth) - and it beats even harder, so even Valocordin doesn’t help.

Returning to Russia from England after receiving an Oxford diploma, appearing on the Hip-Hop.ru site and participating in the creation of the Versus project itself, Oksimiron set about changing the entire rap culture in Russia from a focus on more thoughtful, “complex” texts. They need to be comprehended by tracing numerous references to literary works, philosophical concepts and musical movements. Idea instead of pop. Subtle lyrics instead of sugary “vanilla”. Is it any wonder Oxy’s hidden bitterness towards other, “traditional” MC artists? “Hip-hop was not a culture of stupid people, but then people like him kicked him in the gut,” Oksimiron exclaims in a battle with ST. And yet, here Miron admits that under his influence “rap became multi-party”; which means that a “countercultural” movement could have emerged in rap, giving rise to characters like Gnoyny.

Having produced battles,
I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?”
I would enslave all rap, but I’m always on the road...

After Oksimiron actively contributed to the formation of the battle rap movement in Russia, the former “Englishman” did not go into the category of “exclusively battle MCs”, but remained a multi-disciplinary performer, defeating opponents due to his initially high level. But from battle to battle it became more and more difficult to win. Johnnyboy was stronger than Dunya. ST came even closer to triumph. Glory to the CPSU - a “pure battle MS” - won virtually dry. And quite deservedly - due to experience and the lack of creativity that could be criticized (for to criticize something that the author himself ironically laughs at is absurd).

Convene the court, but the winners are not judged
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became human

“The opponent is great,” the performer admits in the same post. Yes, Oksimiron “has become a popular man” and even after an unfortunate defeat he is ready to confirm that his opponent deservedly won. As in the time of Catherine II, it makes no sense to condemn the winners - no matter how they achieved their victory.

Chorus

In the chorus, Oksimiron expresses the idea of “the city under Gulliver’s soles,” making it the leitmotif of his entire creative path (“All my rap, in short..”). In Russian rap, he feels like a man who “turned the game around,” a huge Gulliver in comparison with “small” in every sense local, “home-grown” performers, who, in terms of their level of abilities, according to the idea of the tracks, find themselves nothing more than “under the sole” of a graduate Oxford.

Second verse

In the second verse there is a change of perspective again: in Oksimiron’s field of view (the starting point remains the minivan, the travel companion): numerous village landscapes and their attributes: “the ghost of Yesenin”, “the last poet of the Russian village”, church crosses, the smell of unctuous oil and the sounds of prayers . And at the end - the vast cities of the “pair of countries”, Krasnodar, Tatarstan and the capital - Moscowabad (by analogy with Ashgabat; a clear hint at the abundance of immigrants).

The semantic “filling” of the second verse is the thought of the desire for creative models that Oksimiron sets for himself (“to belong to something greater than me”); the inner urge to move forward, no matter what. In addition, one feels focused not so much on the result, but on the process itself, which, by the way, confirms his attitude towards battles as an opportunity to speak out, a useful and interesting experience: “This is purely to prove to yourself that one more tick, one more tick or no check mark. As if I’m ready for any options.” In this case, is it worth judging Oxy for many “lyrical digressions”? For that same 3rd round, entirely dedicated to Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”? In the end, the author of “Gorgorod” is not a “biorobot with the face of a Komsomol member”, not a “machine” churning out “punch lines”... And why not use a rap battle to articulate his ideas (“It’s not me who reads quickly, and you’re listening slowly,” from a battle with ST) about the decline of the reading culture in Russia; about the abundance of boring and dull primitiveness that flows in streams - not only from flat TV screens, but also from social networks that cultivate template lyrics of popular rappers?

Third verse

By the third verse, the lyrical hero was already frankly tired. The only guideline is “don’t roll or break.” Even the wonderful “bridge to Asgard” - the abode of the Scandinavian gods - ceases to be a goal, because the main thing is to be “lucky with transport,” that is, to continue moving forward. “Logos” are pasted on all the “parapets” of the streets - concert logos, and Oxy continues to “read out” his intricate texts like a speech therapist “stoned” by marafet (a slang name for cocaine), at the same time imagining himself as Magomed - a prophet sent by Allah according to the Islamic religion - and a satanic idol-deity Baphamet.

“There are soundtracks for the journey on the deck” - this line obviously refers to an analogy to a tape recorder (from English “tape deck”) or the resonating surface of musical instruments.

I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “Good”

Oksimiron doesn’t consider himself a star? Or does he still count? “You’re a fucking narcissist, bro,” says Gnoyny at the beginning of the 3rd round. Yes, one cannot but agree that Oxy is characterized by narcissism and increased demands on others. But he demands exactly the same amount - and even more - from himself, from his creativity, in the manner of “presentation” at concerts. Can we expect the same Mr. “Sandwich Brodsky” to decide to postpone the release of the album due to inconsistency with the internal requirements for his creativity (“The album is not ideal in my perception, so I am postponing the release to an undetermined date”)? Isn’t this a sign of a true creator, a sign of a complete absence of the idea of “following the crowd”? In some way, the phenomenon of Oksimiron is also a phenomenon of “anti-hype”, a fight against the mainstream, simply of a higher quality level, devoid of a shadow of absurdity. Oksimiron is aimed at creation. Purulent - definitely destructive and destructive.

Uphill when rushing. Then downhill when you feel sick

“Maybe now someone will understand that I’m not a bronzed statue, I don’t always calculate everything, and I’m ready to risk everything purely for fun, out of sporting interest. And soon I’ll do it again” - Oxy is ready for defeats and takes it calmly. This is not at all the case when one defeat puts an end to a rapper’s career, since battles, again, are not an end in themselves and not Oksimiron’s main activity (the mentioned Johnyboy really ruined his career by losing to Oxy; which only confirms his real, rather low level in in terms of creativity). “I’ll continue to the stadiums, you will continue to troll,” Oxy addresses Gnoyny. He will continue to move forward, and Gnoiny - after several successful interviews and caustic remarks - will be destined for the fate of the New Year's fireworks, which, once flying up, will turn into nothing (unless he suddenly comes out of the “underground”, which is unlikely).

There is something in this from Turgenev’s E.V. Bazarov, the main character of the novel “Fathers and Sons,” who became a preacher of the idea of “nihilism” in the mid-19th century. Bazarov denies creativity, love, morality, family values, nature - throughout the entire work he advocates a pragmatic approach to things, to which he opposes any sincere “throwing” and aspirations of the soul: “We act by virtue of what we recognize as useful. Rejecting any authority, Eugene proposes the idea of a person as a simple combination of chemical and biological processes. Nevertheless, in the end, having gone through the torment of love, which he cannot overcome, the hero dies, and with him the idea of nihilism, which, according to the author’s plan, confirms its inferiority. Oksimiron expressed a similar attitude - this time regarding the Glory of the CPSU - during one of the rounds: “You are not an anti-hero, you are not a hero at all, you evoke zero empathy..”; “Where is Gnoyny behind the banter and anonymity? But he simply doesn’t exist, because he disappeared somewhere.” Indeed, it will soon disappear.

“Everyone is an MC now,” this is probably true for today’s Russian rap. “Anyone can make hip-hop... A person just needs to buy a microphone for a hundred rubles, cut out a cap from foam rubber, put it on it and write his own rap,” Gnoyny reflects in an interview with Yu. Dudem. However, those who are ready to write good, high-quality rap, discovering something new and unknown in this genre, are really few.

However, this is a topic for a completely different “round”...
Interesting? Save it on your wall!

Is it the Don, is the Volga flowing? Knapsack - on the shoulder.
Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count.
Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise.
We believe you will be lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel: a corporate party or an apartment party.
The schemes are of the same type. Everyone is MC now.
After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here,
Now rap is multi-party. Having produced battles,
I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?”
I would enslave all rap, but I’m always on the road.
The industry has a nervous tic, Valocordin has angina.
Convene a court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became people.
Don't fuck around! I put it on you, servants, five times,
After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.

Past poplars and fields of ripe grain,
Where are Yesenin’s ghosts, the cross, the prayer service, the oil.
From the minivan I can see the earth, I can see the sky above it.
We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singletons like puppies.
There was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchi, Ilya were more than family.
He made a bomb at night as hard as he could.
I wanted so badly to belong to something bigger than myself.
The world is empty, at least get to know every second person.
I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member.
Hey! Spare me your panaceas.
Homemade Paracelsus, because for me, fucking is an end in itself.
Tired? We don't give a shit, Tony Stark, as standard.
A couple of countries, highways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad.
Passports, the din of the stage, in great demand.
Either on the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or on Madagascar. (You know!)

All my rap, in short, is about the fact that
What a year, what a city is under the sole.
Uphill when rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
The city is under the sole, the city is under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom.
You live under your heel, I have a city under my sole.

Please be strong enough not to twist or break here.
There is a route and there is a settlement on the route,
And they are waiting for us there today. Whiner, don't be feminine.
Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck.
Again the fuck was asleep, again the rise was before dark.
Again the armored man, again the road, the bag on his back.
Everything is in a hurry, the field is shitty, raining, cloudy.
Bridge to Asgard - after that, just let him be lucky with the transport.
I make each of my verses a self-portrait.
An hour to check, rapping like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets: the logo is on the wall everywhere.
My teaching is for everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood,
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “Good.”
They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him.”
I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test. (Houmie know!)

Did you like the lyrics?
Leave a comment below

Is it the Don, is the Volga flowing? A knapsack - on the shoulder. Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key. How many more miles? The short flight didn’t count Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise We believe - we’ll be lucky, our beds are portable Minstrel - two ways: a corporate party or an apartment building The schemes are the same. Everyone is now MC After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here. Now rap is multi-party. Having spawned battles, I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?” I would enslave all of rap, but I'm always on the move The industry has a nervous tic, Valocordin is like angina pectoris Gather a court, but the winners are not judged We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become a people Don't fuck around! I put it on you, servants, five times After all, we perform strongly, like the jaw of a pithecanthropus. All my rap, in short, is about the fact that for many years now, which city is under the sole Uphill when rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, I have - the city under the sole Past the poplars and ripe grain fields Where Yesenin’s ghosts, the cross, the prayer service, the oil From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it We will overcome everything, if not, then I’m not an Aquarius Our land drowns singles like puppies Was a stranger, but Ochre , Damage, Ilya - more than a family I composed a bomb at night as much as I could I so wanted to belong to something larger than me The world is empty, at least get to know every second person I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member AY! Spare me from your panaceas Home Paracelsus, because for me fucking is an end in itself Are you tired? We don't give a damn, Tony Stark as standard A couple of countries, highways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad Passports, the din of the stage, in great demand Whether on the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar (You know!) All my rap, in short, is about the fact that It’s been a year, which city is under the sole Uphill when rushing Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, at me - the city under the sole Give me strength here, do not turn and not break There is a route and there is a settlement on the highway And they are waiting for us today Whiner, don’t be feminine Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip in his deck Again the fuck is asleep, again the rise is before dark Again the armored car, the road again, the bag on your back Everything is hasty, the field is shitty, raining, cloudy The bridge to Asgard - after, let them just be lucky with the transport I make each of my verses a self-portrait An hour to check, we rap like a speech therapist under a marathon Stencil on the parapets: logo on the wall everywhere My teaching - to everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet Am I a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood. Napkins to wipe your ass - and that’s it, mark “Good” They used to say “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test (Houmie, know!) My rap, if Briefly, about the fact that It's been a year and a city under the sole of the mountain, when it's rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, I have - city under the sole My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road

A#m Is it Don, is the Volga flowing - a knapsack on your shoulder, A#m Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key. F# How many more miles, the short flight didn’t count, F# Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise. A#m We believe you will be lucky, our beds are portable. A#m There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment party. F# The schemes are of the same type, everyone is now MC, after all, F# Having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here. A#m Now rap is multi-party, having produced battles, A#m I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!” F# I would enslave all the rap, but I'm always on the road, F# The industry has a nervous tic - valocordin angina pectoris A#m Convene a court, but the winners are not judged. A#m We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became people. F# Don't be a jerk, I'll lay it on you, servants, fivefold, F# After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus. A#m All my rap, in short, is about the fact that A#m F# F# A#m A#m F# F# A#m Past poplars and fields of ripe grain, A#m Where is Yesenin’s ghost, the cross, the prayer service, the oil. F# From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it. F# We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius. A#m Our land drowns singletons like puppies, A#m There was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchi, Ilya were more than family. F# I made a bomb at night as hard as I could, F# I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me. A#m The world is empty, at least get to know every second person, A#m I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member. F# Ehh...Spare me from your panaceas, homely Paracelsus, F# After all, for me, fucking is an end in itself. A#m Tired - we don't give a damn, Tony Stark as a standard, A#m A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan, F# Moscowabad. Passports are in great demand on our stage, F# Either along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar. A#m You know, all my rap, in short, is about the fact that A#m It's been a year and a city is underfoot. F# Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom, F# You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole. A#m Please be strong enough not to twist or break here. There is a route A#m And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today. F# Whiner, don't be feminine F# Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck. A#m Again the fuck is asleep, again it’s before dark, A#m Again the armored vehicle, again the road, a bag on my back. F# Everything is hasty, if you don’t give a shit, it’s raining, it’s cloudy. F# Bridge to Asgard after, just let him be lucky with the transport. A#m I make every verse a self-portrait, A#m Often check, we rap like a speech therapist under stress. F# Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall, F# Everywhere my teaching is like Mohammed and Baphomet to everyone. A#m I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood, A#m Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “good.” F# They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” - F# I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test. A#m Homie, know that my rap, in short, is about what A#m It's been a year and a city is underfoot. F# Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom, F# You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole