We muddied this fit so that your brain swells
|
Today together on stage THC and Guf
|
The crowd pours in layers to the chic sound
|
There are even more of us - make the circle wider
|
Next year will be hot, I wish you good luck,
|
In the meantime, there is time - we are looking for suitable punches
|
Puncher screwed innings for a week
|
Bring us some vodka, we're flying home, boy
|
Cannon planchik - in the past, he was good
|
In the future - a fluffy bump on the Forge near Lesha
|
In the future - a couple of hours at the studio
|
In the future - a full house, in the future - filks
|
This is more interesting than the songs of Mikhailov or Leps
|
Honestly, we put "Next" on the rotation
|
As well as on the rotation of all other radio stations
|
We will try while heads are shaking
|
What's up guys? |
The gate is rising
|
Let's go hunting, know comments, know photo
|
Moscow overboard, free on Saturday
|
The windows are up, it's cold in the cabin, but it's hot for the pilot
|
The pilot was carried away so that he was covered in sweat
|
He is shaking already, he almost vomits
|
Doesn't look good - probably poisoning
|
Or the weather: magnetic storms and pressure drops
|
Again, I'm off topic, while under these, and not with those |
With whom would we all like
|
Trust me, brother, I'm kind for the time being
|
Burst patience - I'll slam the door, check out the alignment
|
Well, in general, I'm glad
|
I catch a vigor on the stage, I shake hands with everyone in a row
|
And, along the way, not in vain
|
You can’t slow down - they will immediately eat
|
There is me and my family
|
fuss non stop
|
And let them not fuck
|
Eyes shine brighter than a year ago
|
In the district they still whistle, crackle with ribs
|
Summer has passed, autumn is at the start
|
I still haven't needed my certificate
|
To make this rap for you
|
Pitched for beer
|
The Mias flows slowly
|
The weather didn't work
|
Rain-mud, but it didn't affect us
|
Half a nickel at a time - it didn’t seem to me
|
It sparkled. |
We walk on the streets without straining
|
Chelyaba frowned, I smile
|
Dogs bark, we rap and don't chase
|
And on the balcony in Forge and in the kitchen on Antrisol
|
Moscow - connection. |
"Triagrutrika" - "ZM"
|
Everything will improve many times over by winter
|
My province in action: capitals, hotels, stelim
|
Confidently rap, we drive slowly through the darkness
|
Passage to the control zone. |
What is the exit number?
|
Password-protected Wi-Fi, spammers and trolls
|
Sculpt "Lukoil", I choose wallpaper |
Marathons, drinking bouts, races, fights of women, according to the rules and without
|
I liked it, fixed it. |
hooked
|
You have to dump it - pale. |
Tears
|
Compressor at Mercedes-Benz
|
Conference room, light in the eyes, eyes in the meat
|
I did not order this, free checkout, hello
|
I slept an hour maximum - this is a classic
|
Imagine here for two hundred
|
Here, weigh in the entrance, you piss me off
|
No network again, security at the entrance
|
Ears are everywhere, it's better not to fuck, that's how it is
|
These combinations are not childish for us
|
On the avenue from Chelyaba to Novokuznetskaya
|
From Minsk to Omsk, from Krasnoyarsk to Izhevsk
|
In Lugansk and Donetsk I feel like a local
|
Hundreds of versions of who is ramsit with whom, close and close
|
We will say fraternally: from Kursk to Paveletskaya
|
Looking for meaning - listen to the song
|
Looking for the essence - shut up these bitches and add a plus sign and crosses
|
Strain your brains, if you have them, everything is in suspension
|
You can't confuse us with anyone: TGK MC - I am
|
Guf, welcome, brought a vile
|
Hard, in the press, one and seven by weight
|
Testim. |
All answers are in the text, everything is true
|
We are who we are. |
And let them not fuck |