| Hey Hey!
|
| What! |
| What! |
| What!
|
| Rushing pack under canigum with cola,
|
| Create a reason for Daria Dontsova.
|
| The city sleeps, but gives us a word,
|
| And the music will become the dance floor.
|
| Rushing pack under canigum with cola,
|
| Create a reason for Daria Dontsova.
|
| The city sleeps, but gives us a word,
|
| And the music will become the dance floor.
|
| I would drag Prada instead of the devil,
|
| But it is hardly justified in the pits of the household quarter.
|
| Let the laveha keep spinning,
|
| Plus, the flat will read to us until the morning, as if together.
|
| Street, lamp and pharmacy on Nevsky;
|
| The street slept until dawn with stories;
|
| Rap into a rolled echo from tin!
|
| This hip hop is like
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| New GTA on other computers.
|
| As if someone uninvited entered the portal
|
| From another world and continues to live, as there.
|
| Roar, baby!
|
| No maximum speed in the ghetto.
|
| The game itself can take an arsenal
|
| And play with someone, lose with someone.
|
| Comprende, I don't give a fuck what's in trend
|
| I'm running through the haze under the money
|
| Even if I'm on a bad trip,
|
| Even in a Bentley, like Kendrick.
|
| You are boiling on the side!
|
| You will give out a rag for a thing.
|
| No, you will betray people anyway,
|
| What will not fit into handfuls.
|
| I come to the party, as if to the post office -
|
| There are so many stamps and bags of everything
|
| What if you sell it, you get a three-ruble note,
|
| In the center or on a windbreaker from Cent.
|
| I'm bad at grading
|
| But I keep the underground syllable,
|
| And who sat down here with us
|
| Will forever unravel the earth.
|
| Ashes to ashes, sample to sample.
|
| Intrigue rings in the windows
|
| Look, he is silent like a fish
|
| Wait, don't call, at 103, man
|
| It's just an overdose of cypitril
|
| Intrigue rings in the windows.
|
| Look, he is silent like a fish.
|
| Wait, don't call, at 103, man -
|
| This is just an overdose of cypitril.
|
| Rushing pack under canigum with cola,
|
| Create a reason for Daria Dontsova.
|
| The city sleeps, but gives us a word,
|
| And the music will become the dance floor.
|
| Rushing pack under canigum with cola,
|
| Create a reason for Daria Dontsova.
|
| The city sleeps, but gives us a word,
|
| And the music will become the dance floor.
|
| Dance, dance, dance, dancefloor, bitch!
|
| Dance, dance, dance, dancefloor, bitch! |