SAMICA PSA (Tede diss 2) Lyrics – ( English translation) – Ten Typ Mes

Part I

[Verse 1]
TDF, Tas de Fleia, slob
Look how this wave of hate washes over me
Like water off a duck’s back, a duck after detailing
What wave? To me, it’s just Wet Monday
Editor, repeat value? Better sort things out with your wife
‘Cause on the ripit, it’s on my block like the postman
My son has four apartments, I have one, zero mortgage
All earned, earned, a kilo of receipt
You’ve only ever fought with your own thoughts
Your debut fight is coming, but we’re laughing at it
There are rules for Jacek and rules for Piotrek
Jacek will tell the police where he met his dealer
For that, people and bots will ease his troubles
Jacek is such a lucky guy, he probably won the lottery already
No more, no mas, no pasaran
Let every Tedes fan know, this is worse than “ave satan”
And when you left your hick cars in the garage
Because you were scared people would recognize you and hassle you
You rented a basic Audi for a year, I know the story
It would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic
And you put bars on your studio door with a padlock
When a dog sees one like you, it asks for one beat
‘Cause it already knows your sucker melody
Go, you fool, ask the Boys for villages on the dancefloor
What’s to think about? Do rimming for Skolimów
Wini explained you one by one, my limit
What limit? I’m closer to ecstasy
The comments, son, they wanted to kill me twice
(Kusha, Kusha, Kusha)
In my family, the servants have been reading for two hundred years
I’d be afraid to trust you with gathering kindling
Peasant girls aren’t my vibe, not my ladies
Those ones used to haul ass to university on sleds
I can be difficult to receive
But my grandfather was born in 1897, get it?
So I’m strange, I’m proud
And real, by the way, from the cradle to the coffin
I’m not ashamed of my origins like Bążur
Give me a castle, you motherfuckers, it can be the one in Książ
And Tede is ashamed and wants to be the idol of thugs
But he’s the idol of losers
A Tede fanatic: I immediately have a vision of puke
He reads a millionaire’s bio, wants to finish pickup artist school
And be an idol for the kids
Kabaty – for you it’s a district, for me it’s a former potato field
See how much I’m flexing, bitch, I’m like the goddess Shiva
You’re Muhammad Ali? nah, that’s just Aliexpress
Cyclist, I stick a stick in your spokes
You’re gonna get a serious beating
So the asses and faces of the losers are quiet
Ass, silencio
If you’re gonna quote it, it goes according to intention
Yes, I think I’m better than the violent mob
Than every plagiarist, every talentless fuck-up
Than those with no flow, no views, no technique
And I like to judge – this one is somebody, and that one is nobody
‘Cause I am Mes and you love to hate me
But in person you’re nice, you pass by without a word
And you’re a delusional Jacek in a cap
Well then, bow to your master, on the street and in the app
The day ends, but the fight goes on
Two pads and smoking, a sofa and me on it
The day ends, but the fight goes on
Two pads and smoking, a sofa and me on it
The day ends, but the fight goes on
Two pads and smoking, a sofa

Part II

[Verse 2]
And immediately round three, the foundation of victory
Tournament winner, it’s Mr. Mes again
Mes, Jesus, some strong hits
Fueling these nocturnal moves of mine
They’re not ghosts, Jacek
They’re harbingers of your failure, Jacek
So fucking move, Jacek, Jacek, Jacek
Apologize, and we know you do it nicely
You extended a soft paw when I told you to beg
Beg, brr, I don’t know
But you’ll still be a jerk
DJ Dying