The Game
My name's Viktor, elite code scripter
From a Soviet satellite that's cold in the winter
Pack my own malware, write my own crypters
With more entropy than a mersenne twister
Evade antivirus, IDS filters
Leave the scene cleaner than mops and a Swiffer
A few years ago our economy crashed
The paper that we use is worth more than the cash
Can't afford furniture or tables to eat on
Fam'lies working overtime just to keep the heat on
An unstable government with no longevity
The currency I work with is stolen identities
Credit cards, PIN numbers, searching for the purest
Social security and national insurance
Buy some, sell some, archive and trade them
Compromise accounts almost faster than they make them
I'm not in a group or a crew or a clique
Just a handful of people that I do business with
We all use a forum that's hidden from the web
On a non-privileged port and encrypted instead
On a dark network where the bots come and serve
I've hacked with the admin, he's good to his word
My inbox now is like something from a dream
With a note sent from an account I've never seen
A member of ours was arrested and siezed
Our data turned over to the DC3
Also the admin's a CIA plant
So you'd better pack up and make a run while you can
Cash out accounts, make a dash out of town
They're coming to your house less than two days from now
Is this stuff for real? I don't know where it's coming from
One last thing, don't trust anyone
Better run
Message still there, screen filled with caution
Gotta think quickly and weigh all the options
Hard drives encrypted with a big key of mine
They'll never get to factor the relative prime
The only plain traffic they'd see is bittorrent
But where I live there's no such thing as a warrant
Court's one-sided, they prove any fact
Two days to pack, might be sooner than that
Increase the matter at hand
Blast the front door with a battering ram
Pull the plug, out the window and I'm flying away
Trying not to slip on the fire escape
Forgetting all my files and the password for root
Look back and I see two suits in pursuit
Car pulls up now they've blocked off the entrance
Next stop USA, off to serve a sentence
From a Soviet satellite that's cold in the winter
Pack my own malware, write my own crypters
With more entropy than a mersenne twister
Evade antivirus, IDS filters
Leave the scene cleaner than mops and a Swiffer
A few years ago our economy crashed
The paper that we use is worth more than the cash
Can't afford furniture or tables to eat on
Fam'lies working overtime just to keep the heat on
An unstable government with no longevity
The currency I work with is stolen identities
Credit cards, PIN numbers, searching for the purest
Social security and national insurance
Buy some, sell some, archive and trade them
Compromise accounts almost faster than they make them
I'm not in a group or a crew or a clique
Just a handful of people that I do business with
We all use a forum that's hidden from the web
On a non-privileged port and encrypted instead
On a dark network where the bots come and serve
I've hacked with the admin, he's good to his word
My inbox now is like something from a dream
With a note sent from an account I've never seen
A member of ours was arrested and siezed
Our data turned over to the DC3
Also the admin's a CIA plant
So you'd better pack up and make a run while you can
Cash out accounts, make a dash out of town
They're coming to your house less than two days from now
Is this stuff for real? I don't know where it's coming from
One last thing, don't trust anyone
Better run
Message still there, screen filled with caution
Gotta think quickly and weigh all the options
Hard drives encrypted with a big key of mine
They'll never get to factor the relative prime
The only plain traffic they'd see is bittorrent
But where I live there's no such thing as a warrant
Court's one-sided, they prove any fact
Two days to pack, might be sooner than that
Increase the matter at hand
Blast the front door with a battering ram
Pull the plug, out the window and I'm flying away
Trying not to slip on the fire escape
Forgetting all my files and the password for root
Look back and I see two suits in pursuit
Car pulls up now they've blocked off the entrance
Next stop USA, off to serve a sentence
Credits
Writer(s): Frank Martinjak
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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