| I wanted to score and finish it
|
| But again the rapper is even with his clumsy handwriting
|
| I scribble in a draft, a couple of 16 lines
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| I will express all this in a bit, but I will not put an end to it
|
| The attic fucking wonderfully laid out everything on the shelves
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| A little bit across the yard, go around the cork
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| I fly catch deja vu. |
| Again on the black and white stele
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| Even though I can't sleep, I still don't believe
|
| For the life of me, people's tongues have become loose
|
| The man gave the word himself, he took it himself
|
| "Canalya thousand devils" rolls to everyone in the area whether he is sober or drunk
|
| You check the sound man, Mike has someone fucking
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| For their own here without purpose to measure dick
|
| Che quieted down, we are in the front door, but not at the parade
|
| To parade, believe me guys, you won't have enough steam
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| We are ahead, and you are on the tail behind
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| We are on our own wave, comfort that uncle Lyadya.
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| Go look for your own, this shit won't work for you
|
| Somehow, we roll as we want, and not as a ride
|
| Khali Gali fitting, mailing to districts
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| Baryzhu sound, sorry on the topic of the radio
|
| Seated tight, rocking your heads
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| The pin will catch the guys, the hair will stand with a stake
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| Life is like a fucking circus
|
| Here who is not a beast is a clown
|
| Surprise us uncles, just try something new
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| Do not give do not take, three for the truth, not a decree
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| I think you stopped grazing someone near the house
|
| We were born to crawl - watch as we take off
|
| We were well-known in rap, even though the ice did not melt between us
|
| I feel drooling on my back from those who barked behind her
|
| Where someone sweeps
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| Appreciate our style. |
| It's already dawn outside the window
|
| The author of the text hangs like smoke under the ceiling
|
| With a stream of thought, those that will soon tear the microphone
|
| We do not appear in terror, but watch how we blow up
|
| We are ahead, and you are on the tail behind
|
| We are on our own wave, comfort that uncle Lyadya.
|
| Go look for your own, this shit won't work for you
|
| Somehow, we roll as we want, and not as a ride |