I remember that number. |
I remember how warm it was.
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That muzlo is not for the loot of hip-hop under the wing.
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I remember that it helped me to write inside on the micro.
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So that everything lies flat and the haters burst.
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The sky is black and white on my head, I'll go do some rap,
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And then it boiled, the tattoo is stuffed on the body.
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I put acapella on the beat.
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Ripe hip-hap bratella for you.
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And so the level followed the level, from Microsoft to Apple.
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He advised me to be patient with his sneakers and sneakers.
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And wherever I was, I would demand rap, faithfully believing
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In his victory, preaching the cherished cassette.
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And somewhere in the ghetto the crowd is dug
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The dimensions of the broken tinted trough are turned off.
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Yards and factories are forgotten. |
Brits are bandits. |
Care.
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Blow you work out and hunt. |
Yes, but I don’t want to live.
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Hunger for the city soaked a cigarette butt to the songs of Shakur.
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It's cold in the window of the houses, cold penetrates my gaze.
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My friends live here, culture begins here.
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Sneer here the horizon is littered, because you, fool, are delusional ...
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We drive slowly, we don't rush.
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You see, a tired man lies in a puddle, barely alive.
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Tell him about it, the block is the most chic.
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Crystal asphalt. |
Not a soul, let me finish my smoke, don't put out the mascara.
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Let me finish my smoke, don't put out the mascara.
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Chorus:
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The traffic lights switched to sleep mode.
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Long gone, good night, kids.
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There are few cars on the roads.
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Hey! |
You go slower, don't rush.
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Appreciate how good those landscapes of the soul are.
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, man - be friends with your head.
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Do things without menji, but don't boil.
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Took a niche, you raise
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Or for pennies you tear off the roofs, cutting off the wilderness.
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In the puddles of Paris or in the shower, sing from the heart.
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I'll tell you this - I composed it, write it down.
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Take your time, stop, look around, save.
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You see the faces staring, the police, the hospital.
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The drunkard is lying around, smoke is streaming.
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Sinitsa, Ordzhonikidze street.
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Friday, 7.30, province.
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capital or abroad.
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It doesn't matter where you were lucky enough to be born.
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As they say, so breathe, so it is sung.
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While the heart is pounding, hip-hop is being forged.
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I'm not alone, heaped up those things.
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Permutil with a fresh wind, blew between
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He sang, beat, read and mixed.
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He pressed the buttons, turned the knob.
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I'm not alone, heaped up those things.
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Permuted with a fresh wind, blew between ...
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He sang, beat, read and mixed.
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It's great that no one has banned rap yet.
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Chorus:
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The traffic lights switched to sleep mode.
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Long gone, good night, kids.
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There are few cars on the roads.
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Hey! |
You go slower, don't rush.
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Appreciate how good those landscapes of the soul are.
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, man - be friends with your head.
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Do things without menji, but don't boil. |