Биполярочка [Bipolyarochka] [English translation]

The press is fucking with our minds again, the chills and jetlag

Shove the badge and the questions up your ass, Sherlock

We give a part of ourselves to rap, like Tosin does to djent,

And we rake in the cash, tears still fresh, the year is engraved on the grave stone

We're asking in vain: give us all more than shelter here

Like a wanderer really waits for a flickering light of an inn

We, who are sacrificing everything for the onlookers

Those, who having finished wearing the ring around our neck will throw it into the fire

And what do we get in return? Man, what's in return?

That people's love is bitter bread - a joke on an evening show

When you're poor, you have great expectations from a grand paycheck, but

Where will you go, when the paycheck can't save you, like medicinal juices could?

Oxx, what are you on?

You have everything which a little underground rapper could dream of

You've left the gutters, and instead of being happy with your successes - here is another sob story.

Look at how we live,

I don't think anybody around you lives like that,

Our alcohol is cheaper than a textbook.

So if you're wining, you're a wimp like Chandler.

This is bigger than you,

More than your self-examination of a useless clown

Man, remember, we went side by side together for a hundred years

We followed the same road to the same dream

From the depot to the last station, instead of disappearing

For a few more years, send that shit away

Hey, jew, you won't live forever

Get yourself together! Why are you such a wimp?

Yeah, you're right, but it seems

You've jumped to conclusions, guys,

In a year and a half, I've lost myself.

My friends: two are dead, one is resuscitated

Each step I take is under a microscope

And real talk, if I make a tiny mistake, that's it

I waited for a year to give away the throne

The crown is heavy, I'm tired of fucking everyone

It's that age, when you start, it's all so easy -

And you grab everything out of thin air, you're aggressive to adults.

Remember? My home was a drifting island

And my only possessions were helium and air?

Don't write - "Oxx, let your hair grow long"

After three years of being in the press, I've gone bald

And I would love to leave, but I can't let my friends down

My conscience won't let me

From my oral area

Must emerge a new poem and be flow-plastid

Seem like a pop-artist, but still an MC

Big boss, CEO, that feeds his team

A kind son, down to earth - same as always

An Oxford graduate - but nobody gives a fuck

Catcher in the rye, laugh while you're above the abyss

The motto on Crowley's arm says "God Forgives"**

MC frienemies are circling

Dancing round my dead body

But I'm a live corpse, being strangled by my own flesh

If you stab me - I'll bust my gut

So keep flowing, you gypsy song

Don't know what I've become, used to be a nerdy kid,

But I'm not sad, I don't care anymore,

Because my bipolar disorder loves me...***

• Artist:Oxxxymiron