Текст и перевод песни Momo - Pre neznalcov

Pre neznalcov

Pre debilkov, ktorí berú rap dnes ako mániu, informačne táto vec sa nebude hrať v rádiu .
Kresťania budu zvolávať svoju Pannu Máriu, kvôli tomu ako, kurvy, ja dnes tu podám vám ju.
Všetci rapu neznalci, poctivci aj trestanci, chápať tento album, tupci, boli ste, ste bez šancí.
Všetci puberťáci a aj hudobní zamestnanci neskopírujú ma falzifikatský vyjebanci.
Čujte pojebanci skurvenci, mám kanditáta na k*k*ta, ktorý nerozumie rapu pre brata, tá vec, čo uzatvára, zatvára pred vami vráta, pred takým, ktorých hlava ne-neukladá data, pálim nimi vám do hlavy jak samopal, ratatata, pojebanci, zakope vás do hliny vlastná lopata.
Nevedomosť, neznalosť, neinteligentnosť sa ráta, dozorcu, čo vám vyráta potichu nôž od chrbáta.
Zabávajte sa neznalci na sebe, no počujte, že jak kydám na sprosťákov, tupci, len uvažujte, jak jebnutí idioti
Možnosti si zvažujte, tu na vás jebem špinu, tupci, sprosto len sa radujte.
Králi len si kráľujte, svoje káry kárujte, ľahko dá sa prísť k úrazu radšej preč upaľujte.
Havne svoje rozmaznané drahé krky varujte, nech neskončia zajtra na čiernom trhu nám na pulte

Pre debilkov, ktorí berú rap dnes ako mániu, informačne táto vec sa nebude hrať v rádiu .
Kresťania tu zvolávajú svoju Pannu Máriu, kvôli tomu ako, kurvy, ja dnes tu podám vám ju.
Všetci slabí raperi dajte hlasnejšie si všetci sólo album z ulice vás jebkov slabých nepotešil.
Kam vy lietadlom sa jebete, ja predbehnem vás peši.
Zakopte sa slabí raperi, Slováci, Češi.
Jebem do papule reči skurvené o tom, že hreším, schuti vysmievam sa všetkým smiešnym raperom dnešným.
Na k*k*t sú vám tu drahé klipy, drahé autá, keď váš rap je pod úroveň, Korca fajčí vlastná mamka.
Preto hudba z dola útočí slovne proti jak Balkán, držte si klobúky, tlakovú vlnu posielam vám tam.
Túto vec tu ber si k srdcu každý tupý parchant, pochybujem o tom k*k*tko, že dnes ti ide karta.
Akurát tvoju tvár hnusnú v diere zalieva ti malta, bo si manták pojebaný čo sa rapom tu len plantá.
Môže sponzorovať ťa tu Coca-Cola, Sprite a Fanta, aj tak ľudia zasmejú sa, vyjebú sa na haranta.
Toto fakty sú tie, bratia hudby z dola len posúďte, neodčaruje ich od hanby ani čarovné prútie.
K*k*tkovia utekajte aj tak nestihnete utiecť, pouličný rap tu útočí jak militantné hnutie.
Pre debilkov, ktorí berú rap dnes ako mániu, informačne táto vec sa nebude hrať v rádiu .
Kresťania tu zvolávajú svoju Pannu Máriu, kvôli tomu ako, kurvy, ja dnes tu podám vám ju.

For the Ignorant

For the idiots who take rap as a fad today, for your information, this track won't be played on the radio.
Christians will be calling on their Virgin Mary, because of how, bitches, I'm serving it up today.
All you rap ignoramuses, honest folks, and convicts, understand this album, fools, you were and are without a chance.
All the teenagers and music industry employees, you won't copy me, you fake-ass motherfuckers.
Listen up you fucking assholes, I've got a candidate for a dickhead, who doesn't understand rap for his brother, this thing that concludes, closes the doors on you, on those whose heads don't store data, I'm firing at your heads like a machine gun, ratatatata, motherfuckers, your own shovel will bury you in the dirt.
Ignorance, lack of knowledge, lack of intelligence count, the warden who quietly calculates a knife in your back.
Have fun laughing at yourselves, ignoramuses, but listen, as I shit on you fools, just think about it, you fucked-up idiots.
Consider your options, I'm dumping shit on you here, you fools, just rejoice in your stupidity.
Kings, just keep on reigning, drive your cars, it's easy to get into an accident, better run away.
Protect your spoiled expensive necks, so they don't end up on the black market tomorrow on our counter.

For the idiots who take rap as a fad today, for your information, this track won't be played on the radio.
Christians here are calling on their Virgin Mary, because of how, bitches, I'm serving it up today.
All you weak rappers, turn up your volume, a solo album from the streets didn't please you weak motherfuckers.
Where you're flying to, I'll outrun you on foot.
Stumble, you weak rappers, Slovaks, Czechs.
I fuck your bullshit talk about me sinning, I heartily laugh at all you funny rappers of today.
Your expensive videos and cars are for dick, when your rap is below par, Korca's own mom smokes it.
That's why music from the bottom attacks verbally like the Balkans, hold onto your hats, I'm sending a pressure wave there.
Take this to heart, you stupid little shit, I doubt your card is working today, motherfucker.
Only mortar is filling your ugly face in the hole, because you're a fucked-up fool who just messes around with rap.
Coca-Cola, Sprite, and Fanta can sponsor you here, people will still laugh and fuck with the brat.
These are the facts, brothers of music from the bottom, just judge, not even a magic wand will disenchant them from shame.
Motherfuckers, run away, you won't escape anyway, street rap is attacking here like a militant movement.
For the idiots who take rap as a fad today, for your information, this track won't be played on the radio.
Christians here are calling on their Virgin Mary, because of how, bitches, I'm serving it up today.