| Hey, come on, call tonight, go
|
| From tomorrow…
|
| Come on, call tonight, go
|
| Yes, but from tomorrow.
|
| 'This period I am so in para
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| That I gave her a name, she is called Roxana
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| And she is not the name of some whore
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| She just rhymes with Xanax
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| I took it without a prescription
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| From a friend who has bought it and rejects it
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| Now there is a certain source for everything
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| Raise your collection, drugs at home are waiting for you
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| Milan like Gotham
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| The devil touching your cheek
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| Coca carioca, the infamous, Iscariota, the wheel
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| Bionic people are reproduced
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| Psycho-induced joy
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| Tonica and Wyborowka
|
| My friends and I are off looking elsewhere
|
| In hangover with the Magone, four drugs in the body
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| All tired from the rush for the banknotes
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| For some bitch who costs you as much as she enjoys it
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| Weed, coke, keta, meta
|
| Come on, call tonight, go
|
| Good shit, wheel, tab
|
| Ramadan from tomorrow
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| Today party, my head
|
| Turn like tagadà!
|
| Yes, but from tomorrow Ramadan
|
| Ramadan, ramadan
|
| Five grams in three people, look, there's the hood
|
| Then if you're under pressure, shalla, there's K
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| Every shot is a propeller, my shit rock
|
| You go around with the stinker, bro, you've got catnip
|
| You know it's all fake, just like a wrestler
|
| Even today you made a straight with the Pony Express
|
| He says there is a guy, he has like a bazaar
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| Look at it, tell you the cut, like Shazam (mh, amphetamine)
|
| I'm at the pusher while he counts the money e
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| There is a type, like: "Don't talk to my wife"
|
| One step forward, a stone in the wallet and
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| He knows that the drug gives, that the drug takes away
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| I have a map and coffee every morning
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| I smoke one gram for breakfast, two before tea
|
| When I hit play I hear every rhyme for three
|
| I'm Kurt Cobain and Hemingway before the bang
|
| Weed, coke, keta, meta
|
| Come on, call tonight, go!
|
| Good shit, wheel, tab
|
| Ramadan from tomorrow
|
| Today party, my head
|
| Turn like tagadà
|
| Yes, but from tomorrow Ramadan
|
| Ramadan, ramadan
|
| Ah, as soon as I went to England
|
| I immediately asked: "Where do they sell the weed?"
|
| I was there for a year and a few months
|
| That's why I know all drugs, but I don't speak English
|
| We do not count the expenses, in one day it starts a month
|
| You start out happy, end up in more tense stories
|
| In any country you go you will find it
|
| Here Ali Babà and the forty robbers sell it
|
| A ride in the city, I see the darkness, I feel the emptiness
|
| But what clarity, brother, I haven't even set in motion
|
| Advertise me, tell everyone, I don't give a damn
|
| Twenty grams of charas, ambushed below
|
| On the trail, fire, magma
|
| It's not a game, Fiber, Madman
|
| Here comes the storm
|
| Smoke inside a caravan
|
| Come on, tonight call between
|
| And from tomorrow ramadan!
|
| Weed, coke, keta, meta
|
| Come on, call tonight, go
|
| Good shit, wheel, tab
|
| Ramadan from tomorrow
|
| Today party, my head
|
| Turn like tagadà
|
| Yes, but from tomorrow Ramadan
|
| Ramadan, ramadan |