(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
|
Gold carries the abrek to the pawnshop
|
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
|
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,
|
And there in the yard lads, grass on the grass
|
Well, divided by two, then by four
|
Packed in packages, like a plan, the cops won't find
|
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
|
Brother, and you still suffer from the same garbage
|
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
|
Say hello by the hand, your man
|
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,
|
In the meantime, here's a shovel, give me earth
|
No need to make me sad
|
This handsome man deserves his
|
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 |