| 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 | 
| 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! |