| Reeds over the swamp, a cold wind sways the wormwood.
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| The beat clearly goes under the text, greetings to the locality.
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| From the Timashevsky quarries, the voice into the microphone * uary.
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| In the underground, no matter how he sang, there was a vinyl crackle over the samples.
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| My eyes shine, I grew up here gloss sucks.
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| For fifty-three kilometers on foot, the route is not indicated.
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| Seeking, tasting the inspiration of the crust. |
| I differ in
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| What is not a single rap; |
| and I don't think it's about the baseball cap.
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| Not in your super wide pants, not in your bucks,
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| And in your attitude to business, music, text.
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| The rest is far away, I don’t like mincemeats and purchased MCs,
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| But it’s good, the layouts are not about them. |
| Ponik, as they say, despondent.
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| Grandma is getting old. |
| Less sketes
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| Grandpa is almost eighty, I turn on the record,
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| In order to leave their voices as a memory,
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| You will hear at the end, I always read about everything briefly.
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| I procrastinated about love at one time - I'm a fool,
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| And it remained finished for a number of persons. |
| All this is a little touching.
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| The only thing that scares me is that God forbid the occasion disappears
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| Write about something that excites me, you know?
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| Chorus:
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| I live this business! |
| Tied tightly to their native places!
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| Happy with new discoveries. |
| Real - not always.
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| All these: wars, murders, chasing big sums,
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| And so on - they lock me up with a thousand locks,
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| From little acquaintances and not even acquaintances at all.
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| When it's summer, for some reason, I always wait for autumn.
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| More often I try to overcome pessimism, there are results!
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| I don't want to fall down, I tried to get out of there,
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| There is only one way out - to overpower, to leave the stray.
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| Gone are the days when cohesion was present,
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| I scattered it in different places.
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| Some are parting words, others are on their minds, like me; |
| I'm kind of sitting quietly.
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| Family life crumbles somehow not harmoniously,
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| Everything is going to hell. |
| I forgot the reason for all these scandals.
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| Everything is like everyone else. |
| Such a time has come. |
| I can't bring him back.
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| I have a stupid cyclops and a bunch of petty sins,
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| Debts and other shit, freed from shackles a long time ago,
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| But still no idea how to remain indifferent,
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| When is this temptation far and wide?!
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| Which beckons to bad deeds;
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| But you see where there are people and where there are vile bitches.
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| They enjoy reading about what I'm interested in,
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| On top of great samples on beats, you understand?
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| Chorus:
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| I live this business! |
| Tied tightly to their native places!
|
| Happy with new discoveries. |
| Real - not always.
|
| All these: wars, murders, chasing big sums,
|
| And so on - they lock me up with a thousand locks,
|
| From little acquaintances and not even acquaintances at all.
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| When it's summer, for some reason, I always wait for autumn.
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| More often I try to overcome pessimism, there are results! |