Song meaning of Гаструляция (Gastrulation) by SODA LUV (Ft. KREC)

Ah, "Гаструляция" by SODA LUV featuring KREC, huh? Well, let's dive into this gastronomical journey of lyrics, shall we? It seems like SODA LUV wants us to pass on dreams to our children along with some sort of genetic blueprint. Create slaves for our fantasies and lock them up at home. Well, that's a bizarre parenting technique if I've ever heard one. And apparently, we're supposed to shake in fear for the safety of our little ones while pretending to love someone else. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster! But hey, who needs trust when you can build empires and deliver the first yellow card? Tears, losses, hissy fits, and sweaty playing cards—sounds like a wild game night to me! The thought that there's only one path in life is a little daunting, though. Especially when you have to choose just one chair out of many. Responsibility for your heartbeat and God's gift, it's heavy stuff. But wait, why does being born a human sound so proud when hunger becomes an excuse to choke someone? And why does one nation consider another its food? Oh, and don't even get me started on good intentions being burdened with debt. Your tail got stepped on, and now you're howling like a wolf. Ready to cuddle up to your tormentor and switch positions, only to realize your role has vanished? Such a dilemma, my friend. Back and forth, like a boy-pig or a jester-peg. Keep dancing to the tune, clueless as ever. The audience always holds a candle over your head while a metaphorical sword of Damocles hangs above you. Unreliable, huh? That's what your words are all about. Everyone says, "It's not me," but you go ahead and buy an elephant. Open that playlist, and you'll find yourself coming back here again for a full dosage. Your drugs are envy and malice, my dear. Oh, and let's not forget that one tired of words is exhausted. It feels like everything is becoming more dreamlike, everything is coming from the bush. My little bone chips break someone's joints in dreams more often. Sometimes we want to know the composition of bodies through action. So don't sleep, shout in the department and create a hassle for the cops. But hey, rationality always triumphs over fear, right? And the media draws our lives like a blind illustrator while some live in fear of the unknown future. Others consume like promiscuous lovers, needing a dosage. Moving on to Fuse's verse, it seems evil never sleeps. It schemes in your feed, infiltrates with special agents, and uses hypocrites who steal time. If you want to be trendy, learn dance moves like algorithms. A rapper on a budget, serving Koshchey and snitching in his free time. He may not be flashy, but he plays the precursor in this bitter tale. The list of earthly sins isn't his joke. He respects those who defy the darkness. Thoughts flow like a river in the micro and Rubicon is behind the proud. If you can't keep up, drop your pen and accept that your brain is flat. Oh, and this isn't a state movie or a book, it's… well, it's shitty in places. Angles can tear the air like a rhino's bedsheets. Cheap babble about social surveys, a tough year, and a shared debt. Leave it to yourself, show-off, and go with that take on your cheek. Fuse has been written off early as a truth-seeker and a bum. He threw a pinch into this cauldron, captured by our block of food. Goddamn, I've never met anyone who walked on water. We all need content and a little dough for that bread. A few cutlets can soften someone's spine. Put on a millimeter of makeup, time for change. Hey, homey, there are no right answers in this world, it's all nonsense everywhere. Slam some pop and don't mention problems in vain. It's like a mishmash and a salad, let's skip the news. Can't be sad all the time, man, cheers to that. The hammer and sickle are back in the game, arrest or execution. Let's protect our ancestors' tomb with a living wall in the name of unity. Hey, cheer up! Tighten your belt a little harder and dance until you turn blue. Sing in unison, my son. Don't criticize everything like a monastery, namaste. The hammer and sickle are back, and it's time to feast or face the firing squad. So, enjoy the ride and chew on that, synod of villains!