| CENTER
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| Moscow
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| In any topic, something is divided into pieces
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| And you can fly in, then go north
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| You can not trust anyone and change numbers,
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| But the Earth is round, even though Moscow is big
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| Dream turns on a boy like Monica Bellucci
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| Clouds over the region, conscience does not torment
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| No longer old Nikes, but Gucci slippers
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| The smell of your favorite bitch, but not everyone is lucky
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| From case to case, life will teach you
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| While the black Murzik crosses the district
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| And here you are not the only one so fucked up, fuck
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| Are you pressing on the thieves pedal? |
| Come on, come on
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| The dogs bark, the caravan moves on
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| As long as there is a normal vario and casting sparkles
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| Contacted the beast, and then you'll understand the dick
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| They decide on their own, yesterday still with Kalash
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| In teeth with knives, and today already on Mozhaika
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| In the restaurant there is a bazaar for Mishan, and who did he interfere with (huh?)
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| Why was he removed?
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| Early in the morning in the ravine behind those houses
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| After all, it was against the rules and morals,
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| But sometimes words are cheap like whores in Pattaya
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| What works on a timer
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| There, under the palm trees, the heat is like in a bath
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| How to do everything right? |
| Nobody knows in advance
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| Sunset, the glow beckons with lights, the engine noise from Germany
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| The car flies, the road is not straight
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| Criminal romance will drag you to the bottom like the Titanic
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| Ts-A-O fuck
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| fucked up
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| Couple to couple on the batch, the area is familiar from childhood
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| Faith in a word in any situation, responsibility
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| Seniors, movement, task on red divisions
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| Fear of the UBOP, only impressions remain
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| The case is simple: a man, two black bags
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| Deo Nexia, exhaust, ten sheets of Madison
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| Or a broken life, one hundred and sixty-two, part two
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| RF Criminal Code, no less than a fucking penny
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| Everything is fine, we insure in the Shchipka area (where?)
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| A strong type, and looking forty years old
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| You will recognize immediately, leather jacket, like a bandit
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| Short blond, face not shaved
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| From the weapon, only a piece of pipe (what?)
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| You have to hit exactly on the head, damn it, but not kill
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| The package first catches Sanyok and immediately to the metro
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| There, however, the station and often a lot of cops,
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| And you're throwing evidence around the corner,
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| But look there without pale, pull quickly, but quietly
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| You leave the yards on Zhukov proezd
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| There, around forty-ninth, a body kit is waiting for you
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| He will take you to the point of no return
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| There you will fall in a taxi and back to the base
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| The guys did everything cleanly, as it should
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| Young Sanyok and Amir, Renat's accomplice,
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| But the group has clearly rotted somewhere for a long time
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| A foreman was found in a boring autumn pond (fuck)
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| Sanyok was in a coma, then turned off (bitch...)
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| And Amir went on the run, we didn't find him
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| Word to word, blade to blade
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| Dedicated to those who left honestly
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| Word to word, blade to blade
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| We wish all loved ones not to live in poverty
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| Word to word, blade to blade
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| Dedicated to those who left honestly
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| Word to word, blade to blade
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| We wish all loved ones not to live in poverty |