«So I don't owe you» the title of his new song Mithridrati, which lasts almost 13 minutes and criticises the misdeeds of the last two years. Political discourse without the slightest reference to specific persons and situations, which he nevertheless photographs in every verse with characteristic clarity. The criticism of the Greek rapper, in this if nothing else original creation, is ruthless and targeted. His rhymes do not escape any of the recent major events in the country, especially that of the pandemic.
The lyrics of the song
Government with the spoon logo
and you suddenly have a wimp for a tyrant
A Prime Minister's wife, who's got in her crotch
every ordinance, second to the front
all hens of the untrue and funny
and I'd say, ‘Okay, man, this is probably a joke,
Our Louis, our lord, our lord, our anax”
if people didn't swallow Xanax all day long
Minister of disgust and primitiveness
gives generous lessons in hegemony
But the Ministry of Bliss and Cave
gives another dimension to the concept of the vulgar
Guard and perfume, all the rights
in the night's antics, automatically
bills are passed, abortions in the ground
devil's scrapings the windfalls
Constitutional derailment, no shame
a state of psychotropic, dope-free
Eight-hour work, it's a banality
and any overtime will be unpaid
outside the parish, the pilgrims
demonstration march; Hey, no, big guy.
If you have any questions, they have a platoon
a people in a dystopia and hostage-taking
Suppression teams to keep you safe
in the police cars, the state is a herculean one
And blue uniforms in the classrooms to make a fury
over students beating and chemical
Listen to the most reassuring one
to have riot police in the living room
you know, under the air conditioner
and you won't need an alarm, dude.
Talking about growth and foolie functional
she likes redicumendi international
And Brussels is laughing out loud
as they trawl the Aegean Sea
so he took a frigate, the fateful boy
the cataclysmic, what do you want, playboy?;
“The most suitable” in the poll the boy
for the small and medium-sized enterprise, with a negligible monthly
Framed with government pablum
full resumes, with alpha-deficient
The unthinkably stupid and unrepentant
implicitly unpunished, but punitively so
unbearably untiring and untruthful
the borrowed and unpaid and unyielding
The best friend, the talker, the chosen post-convict
and the leaded gold and gold-plated cobalt
Milliguns from here in some little trunks
to make mascula, the one who makes flushing toilets
I've got a job to do, for a few things
to sisters-in-law, cronies, buffers and such
in obscurity, paranoia in the annals of Narnia
so many scandals that not even a Scania could fit in
Honey is the deficit and it's their concern
to leave a damnable one in their name again
i see dead people
To suckle the prime minister's nipple
Voters, chorus girls
only consistent in football jerseys
Gizmo turns into Gremlin with food
and the apolitical in hunger becomes fascism
Right-wing gonaro acagonal
the knives are looking for a scapegoat
Scorch my Skopias again, the deliberate
helmet broom, hammering
While refugee children, in muddy waters
attempts sink in painful swamp dreams
Cute as a button, the “Yes, butters” with zochas
They have the fly, by extension, turds
Myriacs have been voting for thieves all their lives
and they were rebelled and told to throw it to killers
You've got a job to do, and when the chips are down
Moonies with a lou, this plague
Were you playing Hugh Hefner with a foreign wallet?;
Now for decoration you have the pot
You're a snot-nosed, low-ass country
endless latern, with a holey airsole
having an absinth, always abstaining
You're a little bit of a slave, as long as the elephant in the room
Look at that shot, Mr. Pantelis, you little bastard.
get used to the dildo and then it'll be a good one
Again with the bum, not even a bum, man.
give ass you and I pain in the ass to the pain in polarization
All in corruption and in the bend
no difference the calamity and hammer indifferently
your ass is your business to love your ass madly
don't let your conscience play tricks on you
You think you're a lord, but you're a pleb
you feel petty bourgeois or petty bourgeois
Are you sure you're in the right category?;
Are you the son of Partaola or the son of Parthratria?;
Yes, you are not the first, nor the last
you're in between, so you're just random
and better last than last
because the last one closes the door as he enters
Update from the Moo Moo E and woe betide
and it's all upside down like a right-handed man
The shaping of public opinion,
in below-average perception and literacy
Correct wording in the sentence with watering
impresses the memorization with paving
Entrapment, blocking and disarmament
the eyebrow from lifting, it gets overworked
Stuffed mouths with stoppers in the bag
the corpses are dragged on their knees to the panel
Mop up spittle, light candelabras
the crap under the carpet to damp out sacks
Shooting at the tombola, with the Euro fan
so you bastards, whatever the networks order.
The news in principality
pseudo-political, like a rotten show and reality
Shush, hush and hush, TV is speaking now
is the constitution that the country now has
Rich gifts, speculator report
comes out, the paraplegic every hour
Everybody in bed until the storm clears
and “Naturalmon” will say Pasta Flora
Headlines, for every cheliga
shit goes everywhere by throwing it into a propeller
Now fake news, say the propaganda
with euro pulp, you make a statue
Our leader in the set, for a one-on-one match
asks Pinocchio, answers Pinochet
Journalism is a machination
the regime's iconography is made
But don't stress me, “Hakuna Matata”
Don't be too much of a terrorist
No harm, no foul, couch potato.
great news for the lord's village
I hope that all the data will never come out
because everyone will become a festive piñata
And there's the pandemic, the fatal acquaintance
all in hysteria, in hysterics, in a skull and crossbones
Everything in your life has become an outlaw
“saving himself” to spread stench
The misery of the many, the bulimia of the few
«the wolf in the bush», says the proverb
Grim statistics, they're going uphill
and distance the state, in the reasonable but unprofitable
It's an easy plan to save people
a lockbox in the hold, a detention and a berth
Break quarantine, pay fine
with brutal authoritarianism, intimidation and sadism
Using the virus as a pretext for a ban
with the motto «Screw the N.S.A. and give us a speech
the recession and industries in the recession
shit debts and padlocks in accumulation»
Like hell he's going to be appointed, doctor nurse
and become a clinician, a beggar and a thief?;
Like they'd invest a fortune in an M.E.T.
Those who are sick at home, listen to Megadeth
Protective measures, with hope in the boat
measures that have the stamp of asylum
Counts of balls spinning in a draw
the conclusion, measures that tighten your carotid artery
And I'm anxious for another measure of oxymoron
class, ephemeral but permanent and persistent
«Individual responsibility» says His Excellency
unless you're the government or its boss.
Now get out, you mousy, touristy, mousy, mousy, mousy, mousy, mousy, mousy, mousy.
Now it's your fault, dungeon and lockup
Insecure, without income and incarcerated
for the uninitiated to slather
Funny dynasty courting septuagenarian
and the Constitution, a name just in a square
Scientific committee preaches the sermon
those who kiss the priest's hand
But it doesn't fit in God's house
but know that even kimono is a religion
Infectious diseases in our lives have taken a hit
Beaker and Doctor Honeydew are everywhere
Fearful lungs in the windows dragging flesh
and I'm laughing like Boutia in the Love Court
the jail, to make you familiar
sms to the pharmacy, for a sublingual tablet
to work by bus and home at nine
So, bread, olive and Kovind-19
No freedoms, but don't be greedy
you have Netflixeto, you have the Apple Store
Every home made the labyrinth of Pan
the mother beats the child and the child beats the mother
Big and small, telemarketer, telegraph, telegraph
and our lives from now on, by remote control
Gathering at home is no longer allowed
and the neighbor turns into a spy
What a jinx, what a jinx, what a jinx
and the nuts of many became macadamia nuts
Some careful and others standing at attention
some in all ’X« and others in guilt
others in the countryside, break with acceptance
others no longer have the stamina to abstain
or acquiescence to another decree from the Occupation
Out of patience for your own opinion and version
Give a package to the Kaiser Minions
and I wish the billions to be WellPfizer
And when immunity to the herd comes
we'll see how many bees there are in the hive
and finally, after the ravages of Kovinda
how many bugs and waste will come out unscathed
The liar, the pretender, urges compliance
to toast, to muga and deafness
Eyelid loss, in thy idle speech
Take your rectum and put it in your rectum
Shove poetry to drop notification
but no talk of mobilisation
Make a statement, make me a statement
and let the children demonstrate
Well, I don't expect you to tear a lion
and between your legs you can grow a pair
Hypocritical the critical and decorative
Your self-criticism seems repulsive to you
More right than all the right people
More Christ than Jesus
and perhaps, more equal than the equals
you like and bet on hate speech
The muffin in solidarity, he doesn't want discrimination
until the log out and the application is closed
The same man who, if his neighbor dies
not giving to farewell fucking
It's a well-known fact that everyone has an opinion
and on the internet, there are a thousand sides to a coin
With your stupidity in profile facades
summaries, you can chop up
Every scroll, stonethrower, and stonewaller
a plethora of trolls, in the workplace
Carnivorous comments, clapper support
by Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters
The battle will be decided, on the keyboard
unfollow, block, mute and report
Some call them «goats», some call them «sheep»
and they both follow after ’shoot «em»
More comments from every bad guy
and from the shots of the bird by Yannis Kokiasmenos
On the other hand, the little man, he doesn't even dance
You can't pee on leftovers if you have WiFi
Yeah, baby, post that puppy, sweetheart.
a lettuce, next to tea and in the background a bonsai
Filter for prepuce, nails, beach thighs
Selfie at the location... ”Anaesthesia”
And we the Artists the parasites
we swallow the insults, unheeding
of trahanades, yarrow, yarrow
amoebas calling us lazy.
Tubeki singing the appointees
make Marcel Marceau the comfortable
And the firms make me the tourists
The prino-dolls are freaking out and the hobbyists
The artisans thrown away, handcuffed
and in the midst of perfection, need luxury?;
“Here the world is lost, the theatre to stay
who, after all, are all perverts.”
It helps that this is a humiliating situation
who gives a shit that you're hungry?!
In a telescopic chopper, toil burns like a chopper
you'll get the fluff of the back pocket
The dialects of power, for dealing
even after the pandemic they won't shake hands
That's why I'm not an art worker
I'm her husband and her secret boyfriend
MITHRIDATIS - GIA NA MIN TA CHROSTAO [A Short Music Film]
Lyrics: Mithridatis [Greek Subtitles Available]
Produced by Mithridatis Mix: Michalis Papathanasiou, Mithridatis
Recording/ Mastering: Michalis Papathanasiou
Directed by Mithridatis
Post Production: The END
Special Thanks to Sherif Francis
Production Management: Amok Time Arts | In Light Studio ©2021 Amok Time Arts
https://www.instagram.com/mithridatis
https://www.facebook.com/mithrida
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