Текст и перевод песни Beogradski Sindikat - Himna

Himna

Čujem zvuk sirene
Vreme da se ustane, u borbu da se krene
Znam da moj klan je iza mene, urbana gerila
Omladina kojoj novci puste krila
Nema ta sila koja joj na put staje
Dok borba traje, sve od sebe daj
Nebeski narod kao Maje, ali nas nećete istrebiti
Vodi me misao da će istina pobediti

Baci me na kolena, ja se neću predati
U oči ću te gledati
Dobro nišani, nemoj da mašiš
Poštedi moj, za svoj život ćeš da se plašiš
Jer k'o monah koji meditira, podešavam disanje
Punim pluća do dna, lepim mislima ne odvajam se od tla
Jer ja sam vojnik Sindikata u borbi protiv zla
Arhanđel koji đavola čeka

Spreman za početak novog veka
Dolazim u stilu, jači nego ikad
Slobodan u stilu da stavljam i kad predstavljam Sindikat
I kad otpočenemo rat
Bratu čuva leđa brat
Mikrofon je oružje, tehnika je zanat
Beogradski Sindikat
Krećemo u napad sad

Evo me na bini, smrdim poput šahta
Jer ovde mnogi stižu preko rektalnog trakta
Za glupost i neznanje nikad nisam im'o takta
Možda sam baš zato obeležen od starta
Crna ovca, pravim sranja poput Simpsona Barta
Što Englezi bi rekli, divlja karta
Opasniji po sistem od devetog marta
Jer strašan kao Sparta, energiju k'o Varta
Skupljam i štekujem, punim telo, negujem
Pišem nove rime, i dižem tegove

Da loše bih MC-je nater'o u zbegove
Da Sunce Sindikata ih topi kao snegove
Klub studenata tehnike, tri dana pre agresije
Manijak, zmajevi, mikrofona mesije
Počeli su zajedno iskustvo da stiču
Tada stiže Shef Sale da začini priču
Kao Frankenštajn, mi smo stvorili čudovište
Jer krajnje je vreme da se počisti dvorište
Olakšaćeš sebi ako mnogo ne ložiš se (šta se ložiš)
Najbolji smo složiš se, i sa puta skloniš se

Jer monopolska pozicija sigurno prija
Al' došlo je vreme da se dobro plati šija
Sad stiže konkurencija, devet MC-ja
Beogradski Sindikat, Sunce sija

Udalji se od trona, budi svestan svoga mesta
Udalji se od trona, budi svestan svoga mesta
Udalji se od trona, budi svestan svoga mesta
Jer ću nahuškati Flexa, da te ostavi bez teksta

Novi vojnik Sindikata, sada javlja se na stražu
Uvek spreman za Sindikat kao četnici za Dražu
Kamuflažu strogo nosim kao detalj elegantan
Predstavljam Sindikat k'o bataljon militantan
Zato ostavi taj mikrofon, jebem li ti mater
Kada ćeš da shvatiš da si običan amater
Da ti umesto tvog mozga, u glavi maiš krater
Dok ja mikrofon branim kao Sarajevo Valter

Ja sam narodni heroj Živojinović Bata
Imam znak Sindikata, njega nosim oko vrata
Jer meni je znanje vrednije od zlata
Kada publiku ja vozim kao kanu Hijavata
Ja sam geto dete Flex, kao sinonim za seks
Tu sam dok si rek'o keks, ja sam beli Malkom X
Gospodar ceremonije, majstor mikrofonije
Zbog koje hegemonije nema monotonije

Ja sam zaraza, bolest koja izmiče kontroli
Prenosim se oralno k'o nastava u školi
Širim brže od smrada periferije u troli
Ja sam ćale epoli, za mene lek ne postoji
Moždanu membranu brzo pretvaram u hranu
Nosim klice znanja, uz gomile sranja
Koje smišljam za šankom dok kafanu ne oteram u bankrot

Zdravo, moje ime je Darko
Ja sam ovisnik, mikrofon ne ispuštam iz ruke
Kad pomislim na njega, svi mišići mi se ukrute
A kad vidim likove da smešnim stilovima tupe
Ja ga usmerim kao bič i sve sateram u rupe
Publiku sam smestio u klupe
Ja sam doktorirani profesor ove hip hop nauke
Predajem k'o džedaj, ja sam MC izvanredan
Dare manijak samo jedan, sasvim potpuno predan

Tumz ekipi koja predstavlja Sindikat
Pre nas predikat kidam nije postojao nikad
Mi došli smo sa dna
To Beograd dobro zna
Mi smo poslednja odstupnica hip hop JNA
U ova vremena opštenarodnoga stradanja
Ja pun sam laži, ti kažeš ima peticu iz vladanja
Ali sad je dosta opet obrao sam bostan
Imam tanak meni, sve me podseća na loš san od ranije
Sad ipak ja mislim starije

I da li je sve nekad bilo mnogo jednostavnije
Ne znam, nekad sam samo sa ekipom na ćošku visio
O pičetini mislio, još nisam im'o vizuju
Da mikrofon jašem poput belog ata
Uz pomoć svoga jata, hip hop Sindikata
Što me sada kada kažem da će iz inata
Na ulicama ovog grada bagra će da strada
I nije bitno da'l su iza naočare il' brada
To nikad nisu smrada, tri najveća gada

Mada ne skrećem sa teme, sada jebem li im seme
Mislim da je vreme da sa vrata skinem breme
Prodanih psihopata i seljaka bez mozga, koji vladaju
Da, vreme je da stradaju
Oni opet nas podkradaju, niske udarce nam zadaju
Sad je vreme glave da padaju
Ja kidam papir na razne načine
Ja imam začine, a tvoje rime su splačine

Zato u mojoj kuhinji za tebe mesta nema
Pojava je česta, da te često hvata trema
Tvoj mozak drema, a ustvari mi smo kao šema za buđenje
Beogradski Sindikat sad se sprema
I to je tema o kojoj pričaću ti sada
Mi smo nada koja nadam se započeće da vlada
Pa oseti prosvetljenje kada ulazim pod kožu
Sada dobijaš šansu, pa sa mnom sedi u ložu

I samo slušaj kako za pobedom težim
Rečima glave režem, svoje ime u kamen klešem
Da potomci moji junačke priče slušaju
O predacima hrabrim svojoj deci pevaju
Da uvek žive za pobedu, a nikada predaju
Uvek drže glavu gore i svoju veru ne daju
Ja sam stvoren od zemlje i blata

Moje misli su voda i vatra u telu mog Sindikata
Ja sam sveta glava od zlata
Ovde svako svakom je poput brata je
A veština baratanja rečima nas čini majstorima
Važnima, a ovaj majstor rima ima da kaže MC-ima lažnima
Da Blaža ima rima u kojima vas poredimo sa
Običnim mornarima, a nas sa prekaljenim jednookim piratima
Uvek od rima olujnima i dok morima mi rima plovimo

Onima novima javimo da ih lovimo, sada sve jači smo
Mikrofone iz hlada izvlačimo
Oni brodovi razarači su, a ispred mene okean je sa ljudima
Bura ih obuzima
Jer svako shvata da od tada živeti se može samo na dva načina
Lako ili sa nama ovako ili nikako

Jer dok igraš se ti ratom
Ovo je meni ono što zeleni zove džihadom
Zato glave su ulog u sukobu sa Sindikatom
Jer moje pravilo je u borbi za ono u šta verujem
Nema povlačenja, nema predaje

Anthem

I hear the siren's call,
Time to rise and fight, into battle we crawl.
I know my clan's behind me, urban guerrilla force,
Youth with money, taking a different course.
No force can stand in our way, girl,
While the battle rages, give it your all.
Celestial people like the Mayans, but you won't erase us,
The thought of truth prevailing guides and embraces us.

Bring me to my knees, I will not surrender,
I'll look you in the eyes, my heart won't tender.
Aim well, don't miss your shot,
Spare my life, and fear what you've got.
Like a meditating monk, I control my breath,
Filling my lungs deep, beautiful thoughts keep me from death.
For I'm a soldier of the Syndicate, fighting against evil's sway,
An archangel waiting for the devil's fateful day.

Ready for the dawn of a new age,
Coming in style, stronger than ever, turning a new page.
Free in style to represent the Syndicate with pride,
And when we start the war, side by side we ride.
Brother guards brother's back, a bond so true,
The microphone's our weapon, technique our artful coup.
Beogradski Sindikat, our name we proclaim,
Launching our attack, setting hearts aflame.

Here I am on stage, smelling like the sewers,
Because many here arrive through rectal maneuvers.
For stupidity and ignorance, I've never had tact,
Maybe that's why I've been marked from the start, in fact.
Black sheep, causing trouble like Bart Simpson's spree,
What the English would call a wild card, you see.
More dangerous to the system than the ninth of March's decree,
Terrible like Sparta, energy like a Varta battery.
I collect and save, fill my body, cultivate,
Writing new rhymes and lifting weights.

To drive bad MCs into hiding, make them flee,
Let the Syndicate's sun melt them like winter's decree.
Faculty of Engineering, three days before the aggression's start,
Maniac, dragons, microphone messiahs impart.
They started gaining experience together, a unified art,
Then Chef Sale arrived to spice up the story's heart.
Like Frankenstein, we created a monster, bold and grand,
Because it's finally time to clean up this land.
You'll make it easier on yourself if you don't get too hyped (why are you hyped?),
We're the best, you'll agree, so step aside.

Because a monopoly position surely feels nice,
But the time has come to pay the price.
Now the competition arrives, nine MCs strong and bold,
Beogradski Sindikat, the sun shines, stories untold.

Step away from the throne, be aware of your place,
Step away from the throne, be aware of your place,
Step away from the throne, be aware of your place,
'Cause I'll sic Flex on you, and leave you speechless in disgrace.

A new soldier of the Syndicate now reports for duty,
Always ready for the Syndicate like Chetniks for Draža, truly.
I wear camouflage strictly as an elegant detail,
I represent the Syndicate like a militant battalion, without fail.
So leave that microphone, damn your mother's son,
When will you realize you're just an amateur, outrun?
You have a crater in your head instead of a brain,
While I defend the microphone like Sarajevo's Valter, through sun and rain.

I'm a national hero, Živojinović Bata,
I wear the Syndicate's sign around my neck, data.
Because knowledge is more valuable to me than gold,
When I ride the audience like Hiawatha's canoe, stories unfold.
I'm a ghetto kid, Flex, synonymous with sex appeal,
I'm there before you can say "cookie," the white Malcolm X, I reveal.
Master of ceremonies, master of the microphone's art,
Because of which hegemony, there's no monotony to impart.

I'm a contagion, a disease spiraling out of control,
I transmit orally like lessons taught in school.
I spread faster than the stench of the periphery in a trolley car,
I'm the father of the epoch, there's no cure for what I are.
I quickly turn brain membranes into my food,
Carrying germs of knowledge, with piles of crud.
Which I invent at the bar until I bankrupt the whole damn place.

Hello, my name is Darko,
I'm an addict, I don't let go of the microphone, you see.
When I think about it, all my muscles tense up with glee,
And when I see guys rapping with ridiculous styles, it's a decree,
I aim it like a whip and drive them all into holes, free.
I put the audience in their seats, a captive decree,
I'm a PhD professor of this hip-hop science, you see.
I teach like a Jedi, I'm an extraordinary MC,
Dare Maniac only one, completely and utterly devoted, free.

Tumz to the crew that represents the Syndicate's name,
Before us, the predicate "kidanje" never existed, it's a shame.
We came from the bottom, rising above the fray,
Belgrade knows that well, come what may.
We are the last resort of the hip-hop JNA,
In these times of national suffering and dismay.
I'm full of lies, you say I have an A in conduct, so bold,
But now it's enough, I've picked the watermelon, stories untold.
I have a thin menu, everything reminds me of a bad dream from before,
Now, however, I think older, wise, and more.

And was everything once much simpler, a smoother shore?
I don't know, sometimes I just hung out with the crew on the corner, no more,
Thinking about chicks, I didn't have a visa yet, to explore.
To ride the microphone like a white steed, to soar,
With the help of my flock, the hip-hop Syndicate's core.
That now when I say that out of spite, it's a war,
On the streets of this city, the scum will suffer and implore.
And it doesn't matter whether they're behind sunglasses or a beard so grand,
They were never stinkers, three biggest bastards in the land.

Although I don't stray from the topic, now I'm screwing their seed,
I think it's time to take the burden off my back, indeed.
Of sold-out psychopaths and brainless peasants who rule with might,
Yes, it's time for them to perish, day and night.
They're robbing us again, dealing us low blows, a bitter fight,
Now it's time for heads to roll, setting things right.
I tear paper in various ways, with skill and grace,
I have the spices, and your rhymes are a disgrace.

So there's no room for you in my kitchen, no place,
The phenomenon is common, that you often get stage fright, a common case.
Your brain is dozing, but we're like a wake-up scheme, a brand new pace,
Beogradski Sindikat is now preparing, setting the race.
And that's the topic I'll talk to you about now, my dear,
We are the hope that I hope will begin to rule, far and near.
So feel the enlightenment when I get under your skin, so deep,
Now you get a chance, so sit with me in the box, secrets to keep.

And just listen to how I strive for victory, with all my might,
I cut heads with words, carve my name in stone, day and night.
So that my descendants listen to heroic stories, bold and bright,
About brave ancestors, their children sing with delight.
To always live for victory and never surrender, in every fight,
Always hold their heads high and never give up their faith, so bright.
I am made of earth and mud, strong and true.

My thoughts are water and fire in the body of my Syndicate, anew.
I am the holy head of gold, shining bright,
Here everyone is like a brother, day and night.
And the skill of wielding words makes us masters, so grand,
Important, and this rhyme master has something to say to fake MCs in this land.
That Blaža has rhymes in which we compare you to, you see,
Ordinary sailors, and us to seasoned one-eyed pirates, free.
Always with stormy rhymes, and while we sail the seas of rhyme, so deep.

Let the new ones know that we hunt them, now we're stronger, secrets to keep.
We pull microphones out of the shadows, where secrets sleep.
They are destroyers, and in front of me is an ocean with people, vast and wide,
A storm engulfs them, where secrets hide.
Because everyone understands that from then on, you can only live in two ways, side by side.
Easy or with us like this, or not at all, decide.

Because while you're playing war, it's just a game,
This is to me what the green one calls jihad, a burning flame.
Therefore, heads are at stake in a conflict with the Syndicate, no shame.
Because my rule is in the fight for what I believe, it's true,
No retreat, no surrender, me and you.