| The Samara region will be the first on our list,
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| As far as he is the closest to me,
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| The most joyful and sweetest and how much life has not beaten,
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| In fact, here I had everything for the first time
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| Let's go through Leningradka, there used to be tents,
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| Now paving stones, but not quite smooth,
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| Under the Arbat style, it's a pity that it's four blocks away,
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| But all the guys know how to stir up
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| A nabka is spread along the shore of the Vogli,
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| Everyone was brought here by dad or mom,
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| Now we have grown up and here we are grabbing hacks,
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| We drink beer and play old guitars on benches.
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| In fact, this is the main thing - this is my truth,
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| Reading like a padre behind the scenes almost like backgammon guys
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| Nine districts, year two thousand and ten
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| We are all here and that means in action
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| In my area everyone remembers Ilyich,
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| Wooden huts were made of bricks,
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| I promise that I will visit
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| these places even when I'm old
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| Alabama Cuba pampered the ear,
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| Sounds of people from the right movement,
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| house asphalt, house cascade
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| And I'm glad that my steel was reddening here,
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| This is my sadness, lanes parks,
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| Lenin streets, Lenin quarters
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| All areas of the map, links of one system, |
| But mine will be the first for me.
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| Salam samara mom is Masta Craft with you,
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| A pupil of the railway district and a student of the outskirts,
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| The railroad takes you to Samara,
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| Do you know how it is sitting at the station
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| If you are visitors, then you are in the area,
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| And if you Samara people know the Aurora area,
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| Partizanskaya, Gagarin around residential buildings
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| Our subways, our parks and suburbs
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| The first, third tram, minibuses go here
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| two two six, two zero seven or hitchhiking
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| Look both ways in the aurora range,
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| be careful you are on the railway area
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| Beautiful, but musara in the snout ksiva
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| They shake Maxim to the maximum, yes,
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| There is dirt and bumps on the sidewalks, but
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| Oktyaborsky decides at night
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| I like to walk around the area alone
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| Past bright shop windows, lush mountain ash
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| Happens with ddeyam for a couple of labors
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| Goes out at four o'clock in the morning
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| rocket sector, local respect,
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| Sipa, star, lenina street avenue
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| Those who have been here
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| I will be understood and not forgotten
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| The fires in the barrels will warm you with warmth
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| Wherever you are, your home will always accept you
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| The street will smoke, the street is the rhythm,
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| Communication path part of the schemes old book carrying meaning |
| The native area will always meet cool
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| On the benches with the brother of the beer plank
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| And along familiar paths
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| hang in friendship under the parishes on the hills
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| Here is brother for brother, here it is hard to push
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| The truth is the truth, and if you style it to the point of melting,
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| March Build Council District,
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| Pichera one five one world local
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| Two zero ten here is an industrial area,
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| like thunder six three region
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| Prem for seven prom there we burn with fire,
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| From what coma and coma is it sweet, like a dream
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| All rap here weighs a thousand tons,
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| This is not the first volume that we bring to your house
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| In more detail, then let's go higher to the roofs,
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| There I hear who breathes what we write
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| From the streets of hip hop flow from source to leaf,
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| I present an industrial blog,
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| my road is the sounds of beaton,
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| rock the quarters, we prick the microphones
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| As he sinks into waterways, he drooped,
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| Matai if you don't understand
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| We are cartridges in the clip,
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| In promo of nine districts
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| hello district, it's me
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| Long time no see, yes, really
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| Everything is somehow somewhere else,
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| In other yards, porches, huts
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| Grab? |
| Yes, no guys, I'm yes, the area
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| The boys are waiting and mom is worried at home,
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| Hello, another friend |
| He nods his head, but he doesn’t know what to call for any reason
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| I am a citizen of Kirov or a citizen of Kirov, as you like,
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| District, damn it, Kirov is almost the very ass,
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| And someone blurted out without thinking that he was sleeping,
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| Well, yes, I'm the king and I'm welcome to the throne.
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| The power of nine districts and the heart of Russia
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| Here Nike Staff from under media
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| I lay behind the Krasnoglinsky from the quarters of happy fur,
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| Sleeping verticals of concrete scaffolding
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| In the wilderness of the outskirts that press on the ears, it drowns out the vanity,
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| Where shadows choke those who speak in unison
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| Men in uniform threatened two for aerosol masterpieces,
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| In the area ambulance sweet air for everyone
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| Grinding the cross, s recording the whisper of the roofs of the panel landscapes |