| Chorus: x2
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| Street My Killa, My Killa.
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| Street my. |
| .
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| Time has stopped.
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| The street lit a light in my brothers.
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| They don't know all these.
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| I don't see explicit topics.
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| Hear, you are Russian rap, there are only children.
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| So tell the little one, how, where are you aiming?
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| Lyrics, street, bit everything as it is white.
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| Blood boils, the house smokes, find topics.
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| I'm looking for my dream at my side, let the demon sleep.
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| If the demon opened his eyes, then we are all awake.
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| What does my rap mean at its root.
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| Before his eyes as white all his will.
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| This is not the sweaty ass of a lady on the dance floor.
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| You know how to spoil a Russian MS with pain.
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| Poverty, three whites run from the cop.
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| The stuff stinks, it's too expensive to throw it off, well, yes.
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| This is when your little one swears in love.
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| In an instant, changing its appearance, it waves from a black jeep.
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| You know, it gets lousy on the road.
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| It's like getting up from your knees, but get up quickly.
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| You will say no, Dabro, not your style.
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| What do you know about me, my world?
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| Chorus: x2
|
| Street My Killa, My Killa.
|
| Street my ...
|
| Time has stopped.
|
| The street lit a light in my brothers.
|
| The street lit a light in my brothers.
|
| The street lit a light in my brothers.
|
| The street lit a light in my brothers.
|
| My Killa Street… |