| (reverse: well, what the hell is the bazaar about?
|
| Eeeee)
|
| Beaten up old jig
|
| Misha Krug from columns, raincoat
|
| Like Lieutenant Colombo, Balton
|
| I'm driving past, serfs are rubbing on the corners, the sun is warming
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| Gold carries the abrek to the pawnshop
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| Run quickly, there is a crowd in the area
|
| Our business is tobacco, Khristofor Bonifatievich
|
| After all, you and I fucked up while they were bunching
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| Now it's all paid for
|
| And in general, I am against drugs, like deputy Roizman
|
| Spring froze again, the snow is fucking dead in both senses
|
| Yesterday I saw Budulai, but he quickly disappeared
|
| March is insidious, they say they dug up those two: on Kievsky in a bar
|
| Bulls on a blue case, then went out into the darkness,
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| And there in the yard lads, grass on the grass
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| Well, divided by two, then by four
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| Packed in packages, like a plan, the cops won't find
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| Type of fertilizer to the ground. |
| And in the area, damn it, greenery bloomed
|
| April, our spring city is beautiful, as always at this time
|
| He is aging with us, but the years color him
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| Brother, and you still suffer from the same garbage
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| Okay, take a shovel, let's go, I'm already driving (Eeeee)
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik, I see - life is garbage
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik, but I see - life is garbage
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik
|
| I'm from the Balts and in my heart I didn't give a fuck about your layouts,
|
| But that time you fucked up brazenly
|
| And suspicions crept in on us
|
| Well, there are romals, the traveler, because he didn’t fuck, but his face
|
| Or even a snout. |
| Alas, Vova turned out to be a huckster
|
| And you both twitched like fish in nets
|
| Now you've been caught and you'll be eaten
|
| Life is fucking big theater
|
| Around the actors alone in the role of lucky guys
|
| Who would have thought about them that it’s not bad to get dirty
|
| And now for a short time among the garbage
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| Say hello by the hand, your man
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| Why not. |
| One day the snow will melt in the city,
|
| And I love Kalik in the spring, it's like trolling
|
| It is unlikely that we will equip a pine coffin
|
| Everything is easier - in the trunk and in pieces
|
| In packages we will dig behind the ring,
|
| But what a sunset today, admire, bro
|
| One day they will let us in there, stairway to heaven
|
| This song is simple, a foreign ensemble,
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| In the meantime, here's a shovel, give me earth
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| No need to make me sad
|
| This handsome man deserves his
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| There, as well as here, everyone is given according to their merits
|
| Someone in hell, someone in paradise
|
| As the asshole Kipelov sang, I am free,
|
| But doctors won't help him anymore
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik, I see - life is garbage
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik, but I see - life is garbage
|
| Come on, dig, we're getting closer to the roots
|
| Spring, Kalik |