He stepped off the curb and onto the gray expanse. Po betonu. On the concrete.
“Every crack in the sidewalk is a verse I haven’t finished yet,” he muttered under his breath, his rhythm locking into Rato's steady, industrial loop. Protiva - Po betonu (prod. Beatjunkie Rato)
For Protiva, the concrete wasn't just a surface; it was a witness. It held the spills of cheap beer, the ghosts of late-night arguments, and the weight of every step he’d taken since he was a kid trying to find a voice in a place that preferred silence. He stepped off the curb and onto the gray expanse