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Spotify

TWILIGHT

bodypartz (sped up)

KILL BILL FAST

HEADLIGHTS FLASHES

meh- playboi carti Sped up  C-Moon Remix.mp3

Sorry Bout That (nightcore)

HIT THE GAS

bodypartz sped up

SIDRENCHIK - Toxic
Слушать везде: https://band.link/sidrenchiktoxic

SIDRENCHIK: 🎵
VK: vk.com/sidrenchik
SoundCloud: @sidrenchik
TikTok: www.tiktok.com/@sidrenchik?
Spotify: open.spotify.com/artist/4u7VPxU2F…9eRoiXgrgo9ZUx2g
Apple Music: music.apple.com/ru/artist/sidrenchik/1579162785
Яндекс Музыка: music.yandex.ru/artist/14038795
Instagram: www.instagram.com/sidorenkokirillka1/

SIDRENCHIK - Toxic

bodypartz - luci4 // sped up

kempachii - the internet is where we met (nightcore)

KEYGEN.EXE - siouxxie (❤️)

LUCI4 - GET AWAY [SLOWED]

Axxturel - Get away (Tik Tok version)

[Verse 1]
Clatter of sabers in pews...news crews cue the halo spin,
Label the table of truth as “treason,” they staple sin.
Paper-thin faith with a flag stitched in, grafted on grace like a plastic grin,
Asking Him, “Sanction my fences,” when gospel says, “Gather them, let ’em in.”
Massive grin, masks and hymns, cash in tins...Mammon in sacristy;
Passing the plate to the palace while pallets of rations lack dignity.
“Blessed are meek” gets muted when market moods demand dividends;
Citizens sip a cinnamon spin, while venom invents their dividends.
I’m flipping the diction like benches in temples...rhyme as a remnant revolt;
Not militant, but vigilant...pry the lie from the cult of control.
No idol patrols, no rifle patrols in the soul’s cathedral aisle;
Our creed isn’t greed...plant seed, meet need, bleed speed to reconcile.
Beatitudes blaze like braille for the blind...the signs are tactile truth;
If power preys, then praise is a cage; if love’s alive, it cracks the roof.
Church of the new millennium’s medicine...mercy is militant tenderness;
Heaven is present in evidence: strangers embraced, not fenced as a threat to us.

[Hook]
No crowns for conquerors, only towels and basins,
No thrones for oligarchs inside sacred spaces.
If faith is a fortress, the poor can’t face it;
If love is the law, then the law must grace it.
We tear down the altars of nation-as-deity,
Break bread with the broken, betray false divinity.
Truth isn’t partisan...truth is proximity:
Hold the least close and the King shows His dignity.

[Verse 2]
Pseudo-prophets funnel fear into funnels of funding and power,
Thunder and gunmetal prayers, but the Son settles storms by a flower.
Hour by hour, the algorithm baptizes bias in bite-size clips;
Whitewashed tombs with like-count perfume...hype-house doom in righteous drips.
Pedigree pageants of purity nagging the widow’s mite;
Politic pulpits that weaponize scripture and privatize living light.
Listen...the mission’s not tribal admission to kingdoms of gated lawns;
It’s tables of fishes and loaves, it’s coats when the night is raw.
Make peace? That’s treason to tyrants who diet on deified flags;
We kneel to a suffering King, not emperors dressing in drag.
If borders define your belonging, your gospel is smaller than God;
We cross every line with a lifeline...neighbor is name, not a nod.
Bitter rhetoric fizzles when literal miracles multiply meals;
Give up the myth of dominion...domesticate steel into yield.
Faith is a furnace for fear, refine it to courage and care;
If your revival’s survival of strongest, the Spirit is not in the air.

[Verse 3]
Call me a pacifist pugilist...punchlines pummel the principalities;
Uppercut comfort, confront the corrupt, love’s knuckles in legalities.
Rhythm and remedy, liturgy’s energy...centuries crush in a bar,
Wherever a child gets a blanket and meal, that’s the flag that we are.
I’m threading a needle through steeples, unseating deceitfully seated elites;
The Kingdom advances by kindness...no boots on throats, but sandals on streets.
If truth gets censored by sponsors, then prophets repaint the wall;
Graffiti of grace on the gate...“Let every lost be found and called.”
Cathedrals collapse if they balance on violence...stone can’t shoulder lies;
The only foundation unshaken is love cruciform and alive.
So sing it in 4/4 fury, sermon in snare and kick:
No nation can own salvation...the cross already did.

KING SHOWS HIS DIGNITY

八月汇𦻔 疥崑 户 䒘月水樽鉑哏藻冖昲伙門冰戈鐦水弩蟝 瞞月水梁浸䒘心今期戈㣘㐪汛位下茳慶長閑戈日夕金水杷

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