Yo...

Siberia... That's a cold world, you know what I'm sayin'?

Different concrete, same struggle.

Check it.

I see the pain in your eyes through the frost on the glass

Same story different country, born to finish last

They call it Mother Russia, but she chewin' on her sons

Another body in the snow when the winter's usin' guns

I know about the Thug Life, survivin' in the dirt

But tell me, little comrade, how you deal with all the hurt?

When the system is a vampire, suckin' blood from the vein

And the only thing that's promised is the coldness and the pain

I got the Westside rage, I see it in your posture

You holdin' on to sanity like a man on a raft, sir.

У нас тут минус сорок, брат, не греет даже спирт

Тут каждый первый либо спит, либо на части рвет свой мир

Тут «Thug Life» — это выйти в ночь, когда не ходит трамвай

И если выжил до утра — считай, попал ты прямо в рай