| And we twisted, smoked the sky, cops feel it.
|
| My cru in style, good fellas.
|
| I'm like Bruce Willis, the blues is sawing on the loop.
|
| The ruble exchange rate went up.
|
| On the reverve, my ace took them all out.
|
| The bitch is holding her cheek like a flux has grown.
|
| You will squeak like Vitas,
|
| Get your body ready to go.
|
| Here is the Caspian cargo - YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH US.
|
| And my land of gop-stop hip-hop is spreading,
|
| That week, a cop aimed his gun at my forehead.
|
| I don’t know how I will perform this track on stage,
|
| But I know that in the next world this track will be appreciated.
|
| This old school is more dangerous than rifled barrels
|
| Sharpen, shark teeth, my PB comfort.
|
| Here the Kremlin guard shouts: "guard".
|
| The Kremlin guard, if the blow would become a stoop.
|
| And I bought as much as I could, smoked.
|
| Not God yet, but already as a patriarch for real.
|
| Until I die, I will steal from the bigwigs.
|
| Until I catch the garbage, I do Dolobit.
|
| I will not cool down, I do not expect alms, I,
|
| I will find food for myself on the fly.
|
| Along the nine past the shop window pizduya,
|
| I'll cover Vitrun, I'll cover the traces.
|
| Until I die, I will need my fifty kopecks.
|
| Catch a big commercial, a small one on my spinning rod. |
| Half a kilo on the shelf, blue tattoos.
|
| Parallel to me are a couple of lines, heifers in mini.
|
| She will throw her new bikini on the floor.
|
| He throws a couple of glasses, throws his eyes.
|
| He sits cross-legged, but the babe will spread his legs.
|
| And we will shoot everything on an iPhone against the backdrop of a lifo.
|
| Girls' best friends are implants.
|
| And I asked Santa for Stechkin.
|
| My best friends are prisoners, prisoners.
|
| My best days are in the 20th century.
|
| Chorus:
|
| On na na na na na na na na
|
| On na na na na na na na na
|
| On na na na na na na na na
|
| On na na na na na na na na
|
| Second couplet:
|
| All around there is chaos and poverty.
|
| I did not consider that I would die in this poverty.
|
| Listen there, accuse me of wearing it, I'll give you a reason.
|
| Make me an ornament like a carpet, so that my muzzle is to the floor.
|
| And if I were a balabol, I would walk in shorts
|
| And in polo for attractions, and so my diet is full.
|
| While you flaunted a trade representative there,
|
| We were simply driven into corrals by laws.
|
| And how do you know what is hidden there at the bottom?
|
| What fucking brand is the jacket from and what's under it.
|
| What kind of iron is what we wear under a jacket, |
| I know for sure and I won't confuse it.
|
| I have a total of a check of one thousand one hundred and fifty rubles.
|
| I checked everything in hell under eblet glasses.
|
| I'll gargle with Jack and pay the bill.
|
| There will be one hundred and fifty of them, one hundred and fifty if I want.
|
| And I rather walk along the edge, yes I am one of those
|
| To whom the plaintiff will rather arrange complete fucked up.
|
| I carried my head exactly strictly like that.
|
| And how many lives we had could not be counted.
|
| I will instantly brush off dandruff from my shoulders like problems.
|
| I will share the dilemmas for the days of the week.
|
| Anarchik, forget about all the problems, spit.
|
| But, and dandruff is not a problem, just buy shampoo.
|
| What on weekdays, what on weekends,
|
| Now under the smoke, then many times getting under the breath.
|
| And if you decide to go against my bandits,
|
| Then we decide to riddle to holes.
|
| I understood something, in a sense, I understood when I grew up.
|
| I won't give it back, I won't give back what's mine.
|
| True, it is not clear what the outcome will be,
|
| But don't give a fuck - we swing our heads under the cue ball, bro.
|
| It's like a terrorist attack and I'm Saddam here.
|
| I won't give it back, I won't give back what's mine.
|
| And I understood something, in a sense, I understood when I grew up.
|
| It's better to do it on the go than to sit and guess.
|
| Chorus: |