I am for the boys whom God did not leave,
|
But who was framed by the authorities
|
Black suit is closed by gray scum
|
The time is this, these dogs mock their heart's content
|
The apple has nowhere to fall, imperial laws,
|
But there are loopholes, there are brothels
|
The boys fled from the zone, on their heels ???
|
The smell of gunpowder in the dead sky
|
Boys roam in the wild without feeling their feet
|
Soon the mother will see a face painfully familiar
|
All the cops next to the search party
|
Almost poked in the back with machine gun muzzles
|
And when the barracks quiet down after the shmon
|
Life goes on outside the law
|
Behind the back the boys are verified
|
Under my rap meren are moving confidently
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia!
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia!
|
All the labyrinths of the metropolis lead to the bottom of the swamp
|
Bosota divides zones on the streets according to calculations
|
Losing their heads in the cost of blood and sweat
|
I leave a scar in the body of the question: Who are you?
|
Call me Cleaver from Ioe City
|
On the wire Samara, Capa in the chronicle of the walls
|
Clogged up our loops smuggling out the system
|
We are in denial of everything that you stuffed your veins with
|
Valyn's poems kill the mess of the world
|
Correct Tesak understand son!
|
The point is not to score, the point is to beat the banks
|
When you have weight on the streets, ranks are not important
|
You erase edits according to the code, breaking the chains
|
Kindle the fire of freedom and let the wind blow
|
Inflating the Flying Dutchman's sails
|
Sing the melody of vagabonds and adventures!
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia!
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia!
|
Don't play with fire, don't disturb the beast
|
I don’t enter the circle of trust, I’ll show you the door
|
What you sow is what you reap
|
Do not throw yours, otherwise you will guess on the knife
|
Be careful kid, the red ones are fierce
|
Avoided the article, don't run into a bullet
|
Life on the run promises life on the run
|
To whom is the old Zhiguli, to whom is the black Tahoe
|
Conspiracy, encryption in bazaars
|
Dark glasses in expensive frames
|
I am a player, one life is given, boy God is with us
|
Prosecutor Satan
|
Not my fault, but his thirst for money
|
Behind me is a kid, on me is an old phoenix
|
The palm presses the cross to the chest
|
For the Musar boys, the middle finger!
|
I didn’t hang out in pop music, I didn’t write with Maxim
|
I want you to taste the master's rap
|
If I spilled kerosene on the streets
|
And in my hand there is a jamb how can I put it out
|
Hey boy, stop it
|
Don't look at me like a bull at a red cloth
|
I'm not good in the face, shove get along
|
I'm still the same, I still live the same
|
Studio, pubs, a little wiltedness
|
From the Volga river boys, punks, crooks
|
Cards, tea on the table, goodies
|
We are all vagabonds, travelers in this life
|
I bought the left ksiva, swirled with murks
|
A beautiful deluge was spoiled by chance
|
What can I say, we walk under the same God
|
The main thing is alive, healthy and free
|
Well, let's go!
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia!
|
Is it really impossible to redeem the kid from the scum,
|
Like a gallant whiskey from an infusion from Asia! |