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In fact, battle is our most native genre. Despite someone else's word. The most Russian, ancient, cherished. What do we do on social media every day? Only in battles. The other evening I wrote on Facebook that I love boiled onions. No, no subtexts and secret meanings. Onions that are boiled in soup. I love. Dot. Send comments. At first, mocking and emotional: "Fuuu, how can you!" Then a couple of opponents arose who began to argue about onion soup. And this innocent kitchen dispute quickly escalated into a confrontation of ideologies, mutual accusations rushed. Everything we love. They forgot about boiled onions, a war of two worlds began. I politely asked the opponents to disperse, to no avail. I had already gone to bed, but this bloody battle continued.
We are not without battles. Let's remember the recent one - Navalny vs Usmanov. It was an excellent show, sorry Usmanov cut him off, he is a talented "reader". But he left us as a memento the imperishable line "Ugh on you
We have had a battle between the "rapper" Poklonskaya and the "rapper" Teacher for almost a year. This is a wildly funny battle, it is a pity that it was in absentia. I would mix them in a studio and demand to “read” my lyrics. He brought the situation to aesthetic idiocy. Just to be rhythmic and tasty. Well, for example:
Poklonskaya: You, director, don't chase the tsar! This is my cat, my "mimimi"!
Teacher: What do you understand in Russian cinema? Sit in the yard and play dominoes!
Poklonskaya: I'll show you a furious fact and put you in a barrack for three years!
And so on. By the way, a cult rapper would have come out of Poklonskaya, she would have had a good producer and a manga-style carbon monoxide make-up. And there, you see, touring around the world, no worse than Pussy Riot. She would have forgotten about Matilda. But why forget? This is a cool nickname - Matilda. Already branded.
Or another battle, Sobyanin vs Muscovites. This is generally a grandiose battle, with a billion-dollar budget, the best battle in the history of show business. To the accompaniment of excavators and jackhammers.
Choir of Muscovites: Get out of Moscow, go to Kogalym!
Sobyanin: Fuck you guys, we’ll poke it up here!
We have battle in our blood. We can do nothing without swearing. We love it and know how to do it like no one else. You look at a pretty girl on the subway, she immediately says, "What are you staring at, asshole?" We are always ready to attack and defend. Peace of mind is disgusting to us, we do not believe in other people's smiles, we know for sure: there are enemies around. Even in a restaurant we get bored if the waiter serves well, there is nothing to complain about. One lady I know sat and sat like that, languishing, then says to the waiter: "You walk very slowly!" He politely replied: "I walk as usual, no one complains." “Oh no one! - the lady was delighted. - Then I'll complain. Call the elder! " And away we go. The battle was a success, the lady was pleased, it was not in vain that she went to the restaurant.
If we talk about the artistic component, Russians are generally the best rappers. We know how to "read" for a long time, angrily, passionately. Our Foreign Ministry Speaker Maria Zakharova writes brisk poetry. All of us are handsome, talented, poets. Our entire spoken language is tailored to this, and let the pitiful balabolas from Brooklyn drown in borscht. In our country, any schoolchild can construct such a metaphor from short words that he needs the Nobel Prize, and not the ragged Bob Dylan.
There is, by the way, a wonderful rapper tale about the great aircraft designer Tupolev. He swore excellently, but one day in the shop he heard the old tinsmith's roulade. Tupolev approached and answered with his own. Tinsmith him his. In short, a real battle. The tinsmith won, Tupolev shook his hand.
These are the readers in this country. These are the battles. Whoever comes to us with a sword, we honor him. As rapper Nevsky said.