Pierwsze 200 wierszy.
WARSAW, 1999
Lucky son of a bitch.
Your size.
Nice kicks.
You're fucking crazy? Not now.
- Yeah, now. - Faster, man.
Relax.
We're fucked. Run!
Freeze!
Move your ass!
Let go!
He knocked my tooth out!
Who in Poland has all the teeth?
- Good morning, Mrs Woźniak. - Morning.
Turn that off.
Chill, mum. I wrote something for you.
So you'd relax a little.
Look in mother's eyes, she's suffered a lot
Many tears she cried for her son
Did and would do anything
She cried so many times, it happens often
So make sure, kiddo you put your name
In the right style. Everyone's after money
Don't say I'm lost
What's with these shoes?
You've got money for new shoes, but not to share living expenses?
I've said it a thousand times.
At home you wear slippers!
I've got something for the home.
- Enjoy. - Look me in the eye.
You look away, you lose.
Yo.
Neighbours are having an ongoing party?
They're fucking poverted.
Or perverted. Whatever.
- Łysa? - Show lady some respect.
- Go get some cigs. - On my way.
Long time, no see.
Hi.
I heard about your hurdle race.
You are quite a sportsman.
Good you didn't break your legs.
Sorry, Łysa, there's no shop nearby.
Seriously?
- Maybe we go further... - Sure thing.
Get in.
Who's that chick?
Łysa.
- That Łysa? - Yup.
She has friends in Ząbki. Worked with Granpa.
- Are you fucking me?! - You would feel it in your ass.
She's hot. Wonder how many she banged.
A lot. Likes younger dudes.
Then I should get interested. C'mon.
Let's get high.
Chada is not jealous, stays in your psyche
Doing your thing You're limitless
Welcome to Poland, where they kill for cash
Stab you in the back when giving you a cake
And pouring you a drink. Yo, man!
Hi, sis.
Yo, Pablo.
Why so fucking slow?
I'm fucking tired.
I start my shifts at 7 am, even on Sundays.
What's up with your tooth?
Give me a break. Lost it at work.
I'm broke.
What's the job?
I pack plates into boxes.
- How much do they pay? - 4,20.
- For one plate? - Per hour.
You're shitting me!
- And? - They didn't pay anyone yet.
- The whole staff is waiting. - And?
I can't go fucking public.
I'll steal some plates and sell them tomorrow.
And get the fuck out of this country.
- Where to? - Germany.
You can go with me.
Sounds like communist meddling.
Expectations, salary on time, what fucking else?
The system has fucking changed.
It's capitalism.
Time to act on your own.
Time for young and resourceful ones.
All that matters are drugs, not canned meat.
Fuck it, I'm good here.
Then why you're going around toothless?
And you, Chada? What's you're up to?
What's up?
Got something good?
I always have top notch stuff. For twenty.
Put in on my tab.
Fine.
But pay me back!
- I'll have some coke next week. - Not my thing.
Yo, man!
There's one thing you give and take
It's not about money, it's about respect
There's one thing you give and take
It's not about money, it's about respect
There's one thing you give and take
It's not about money, it's about respect
There's one thing you give and take
It's not about money, it's about respect
Lout will be lout, forever and ever, Amen
Stay with your bros and you'll be safe
Making hip hop is our mission
Help your mate, so he won't hit the bottom
Let him know that you're more than a beggar
What counts is respect
You don't follow? Then you'll get slated
You were raised for nothing
Begging and crying won't help
Begging and crying won't help
I trust my judgment even when I'm wasted
I know who's loyal and who's a scum
I know respect and it won't change
I rhyme for my bros, that's what I love
Got nothing more to say, Klima - respect!
That was good.
Come by tomorrow at 11 am.
We'll talk.
Be there.
OK?
Man!
That's the guy from the TV.
He hosts some show.
You feel that? Nice one!
Yo.
Black sun rising over us
Over roofs, over our family rules
I...
- It's ok? - Very nice.
You got something more?
Anything else on the table?
Lowlife knows no lie, only the truth
- Cause one man's lies... - Enough!
Sit down and listen.
It needs some work. Some smoothing up.
Too much swearing.
Here's the plan. You'll rap.
I'll take care of songs.
You'll get a songwriter. Make some numbers
on women and summer holidays.
And in a month
you'll appear in "Blaise's Bike".
Sounds good? Now listen.
Something like that.
That's how I see it.
We gotta do something about your vocals.
You'll take a couple of singing classes
and we're golden, right?
Come on.
Wanna try?
- Yes? - Thanks.
As you wish.
There's a deal.
They brought new goods to Olszynka.
Razors, irons.
Irons sell well.
They always fucking do.
Because every fucking businessman
wants his shirt ironed. Am I right?
Last time wasn't enough?
- It will be different this time. - Just drive!
I'm out.
Think about it.
What time do you get home?
I had something to do.
Look at you. What happened?
What kind of business was that?
Personal. You work night shifts too.
I have to go.
Be at the hospital at 3 pm.
- Got it? - Yes.
- Don't be late! - You better hurry.
- Take care of this. - Will do.
Something extra for the family.
Home appliances are selling well.
Aren't you forgetting something?
You gotta make a living.
I could use a man like you.
You have something to offer?
In a couple of weeks you can own a car.
Pablo's already said "yes".
Pablo?
I'll think about it.
Think, for fuck sake.
But don't overthink.
Chada and overthinking?
Cigs again? You don't even smoke.
I don't wanna look at you, you fuck.
- It hurt? - Good one.
"It hurt?"
I don't smoke.
If theoretically there was a job,
what theoretically would we do?
Surprise me.
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