Smoke coming out of the exhaust, dad, your son.
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For a long time I could not decide, but in the end
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Decided to damage two new pairs of tires.
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At the start, attention and left.
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At 75 watts, Mouzon is good.
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An important part of the program of the show.
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The wind is fair, not fair, I don't care
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I blow shaggy smoke out the window.
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I remember the person with whom they spent cash
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And I suggest you go visit him,
|
And here is that 4th junction in the graffiti entrance,
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There is luck, there is light in the apartment, which means it is here.
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We take it with us and continue our race.
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If I want, I will fly to heaven.
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If I want, if I get through.
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I can do a lot when I roll
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On a straight line under 185. You can't catch up with us.
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I can fly.
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Crossroads one, two, three.
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Rahmat is dear to the archangels with all my heart.
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We arrive at the winery,
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Intoxicating we inhale oxygen,
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And right there on the right track
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We slide at a speed of 120 on a solid gray mass.
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The capital is not afraid of us, welcomes our crew
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Lights, night lights, beautiful bodies
|
Look what legs are standing near the road.
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Do not confuse syllables. |
Complements are not appropriate
|
They still don't have enough space |
For interest, I will sing to you, meet thoughts on the go:
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Hunting, hunting boys, go down the road with "daddy's" escort.
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Imagine guys imagine
|
We fly under 200 kilometers along a bare track.
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Let, in reality, we do not have an escort,
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And the bare track too, but there is the speed of V.I.P. |
plastic bag,
|
And that means we can. |
And that means we can.
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I see everything that I hate.
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I put my thoughts in order when I cool down.
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And what is high becomes low.
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And what is far becomes close.
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I miss the risk, the whistle from the discs.
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Cod in the temples, glitter, quick silhouettes in the eyes.
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Therefore, we are poets, do not press the brakes,
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Pedal to the floor, from the table to the ceiling.
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Let the tower demolish, no questions asked, no drifts,
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In a straight line, one hundred and eighty-eight.
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Whoever asks us for this, asks, then we will answer.
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The main thing in the wrong world ... (the main thing in the wrong world)
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I believe we still have everything ahead,
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I believe we still have everything ahead
|
I believe we still have everything ahead...
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Coda.
|
Will rock the bass cradle for us
|
Gently press on the gas on the soul balance
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(I have a balance in my soul, smoothly press on the gas!) |
Arrow at zero on the speedometer
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Streets in the dust we arrived
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(we arrived)
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Just like that we drove
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Just flew like that
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Just wanted it that way
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Blowing from afar, and they arrived. |