Pochinki
A hyper-charged anti pop opus blending rapid-fire chopper rap with glitchy percussion, gritty 808s, distorted bass, Sharabi DnB surges, Fudu Jazz licks, and raw choir bursts. Jazz keys and abrasive orchestral stabs clash with vinyl crackle, scratches, and wild experimental drops; spoken word and meme elements riff over reggae-dub breakdowns, while dark theatre beats and avant-garde textures push the rebellious, artful chaos.
Pochinki
A hyper-charged anti pop opus blending rapid-fire chopper rap with glitchy percussion, gritty 808s, distorted bass, Sharabi DnB surges, Fudu Jazz licks, and raw choir bursts. Jazz keys and abrasive orchestral stabs clash with vinyl crackle, scratches, and wild experimental drops; spoken word and meme elements riff over reggae-dub breakdowns, while dark theatre beats and avant-garde textures push the rebellious, artful chaos.
Lyrics
Intro
Boot up the lobby, mics already loud,
same four idiots swearin’ we got this round.
Ping jumpin’, plans already wrong,
Eranggel load in, yeah, we been here for long.
Hook
Hot drop Pochinki, everybody brave,
five seconds later somebody yellin’ “WHY YOU STAY?”
Grenade in the window, whole squad gone mad,
one win feel holy, ten losses feel bad.
Hot drop Pochinki, same old scene,
blamin’ lag, blamin’ guns, blamin’ everything.
One crate fall slow, everybody stare,
soon as boots touch ground, it's fuckin WARFARE.
Verse
“Mark the spot!” Nah, you jumped late,
half the squad land roofs, one dude hit the gate.
AK with no scope, UMP feel safe,
somebody lootin’ pans like that gonna save.
“Who threw that nade?” silence on the mic,
kill feed say friendly, yeah that sound right.
I tagged one clean, you pushed too fast,
now I’m crawlin’ on the floor sayin’ “bro come back.”
Red zone poppin’, timing real cruel,
car flip once, squad laugh then mute.
One guy swear he heard steps behind,
turns out it’s teammate doin’ circles panicked out his mind.
Hook
Hot drop Pochinki, everybody brave,
five seconds later somebody yellin’ “WHY YOU STAY?”
Grenade in the window, whole squad gone mad,
one win feel holy, ten losses feel bad.
Hot drop Pochinki, same old scene,
blamin’ lag, blamin’ guns, blamin’ everything.
One crate fall slow, everybody stare,
soon as boots touch ground, it's fuckin WARFARE.
Verse
Mid game quiet, loot finally clean,
M416 set nice, scope sittin’ mean.
Bridge camp fail, wrong side zone,
“Trust me bro” famous last tone.
Then one match hit different, moves all sharp,
smokes line up perfect, pushin’ like art.
Nade bounce twice, land dead center,
whole squad scream like “WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT, SIR?”
Final circle small, nobody rush,
one knock, one cover, no one doin’ too much.
Last guy panic, run straight ahead,
screen flash yellow, yeah, that sentence said.
Mics go crazy, chairs get kicked,
same guys who fed now talkin’ shit.
Next game load in, ego sky high,
ten seconds later, “BRO WHY YOU FUCKIN DIE?”
Outro
Different years, same damn map,
same jokes, same fights, same traps.
Even when we trash, still queue again,
‘cause them dumb moments worth more than the win.
Eranggel raised us, bugs and all,
from hot drops to late game crawl.
If the squad online, I’m ready there
PUBG nights built memories we still wear.