| Salute, what's the tinder?
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| Guf true, but he is a corpse
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| He was cool, but suddenly died.
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| Everyone around lies, I'm here.
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| Girls amuse, scabies itch
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| They drown in their grievances
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| Washed bones are as white as untouched paper.
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| Like the ceiling of a hospital room.
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| Someone's life offended
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| Here they invent not on business.
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| And I know you are
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| Just listened to your a capela
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| Yes, this is not a hobby, not a fashion trend.
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| This is a spiritual revelation
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| Inspired and tested by time, music
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| Increasingly hip hop gatherings
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| Hairstyle, pizhenny Kengel, drunken walk
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| Not well-groomed jacket, leather
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| Can you imagine, the hemp put into milk came to life
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| She takes me with her
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| without even asking for a name
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| Now for thinking about every moment, more time
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| It is necessary to stir up so as not to leave the northeast coast
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| If I say that there are no sins for me, no one will believe me.
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| I need to buy the psychology of evil, I don’t remember the author
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| And send a parcel to a penal colony
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| I will also go to my father, my father to visit
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| And here I am with a pure soul, meet my dear
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| Autumn will take and not ask |
| We will hang from the street at the studio
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| And the stuff is killer in leaves or tops
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| This evening is not the only one
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| Games with thoughts, are they with you or are you with them
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| Give birth to music and poetry for centuries
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| Not a big road, from Moscow to Tankograd
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| Look both ways, like opening a cocoon
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| A fat tag stretches
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| There are many of us here, no more, no less than necessary
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| After a tight bong, back to work, not happy about the salary
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| In the warmth of brotherly conversations, I meet the dawn
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| Captivated by heated discussions until released
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| This hip hop bro brings you
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| A ray of sunshine in the moment of autumn sadness
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| I got through the wire brother into your room
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| I need you to get out of the pool
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| Music can be worth more than gold if you invest
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| into her self
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| Autumn bitch ousts summer
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| Outside the window the trees are rocked by the wind
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| Opened notepad without notes and so
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| Thoughts fly into the monitor
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| Peace to everyone who knows how hip hop warms in the cold
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| Who fumbles for sour rap and hearty? ..?
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| It's forever and takes us off the ground
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| Music as a helmet from household fuss
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| She is all I have and I am with her.
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| It is she who is the engine of the lines on the sheet |
| With me from birth to the end of days
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| She came from heaven, having made her way from crowns to roots
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| Let's add a little, a little people go to the sound
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| Any time of the day you just need to stick a disk
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| And we will always be in touch
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| In a notebook elm read aloud on the record
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| Only dirt, as always, is a weighty message here
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| With this verse I beat off a penny who knows
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| Through the prism of resins and soot of the industrial zone
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| Look at the world and discover new sides
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| I look at the smoke through the glass of the bong
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| Poured water on the Adam's apple, London outside the window
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| And it's warm here, our studio is heated by batteries
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| Hey doc, bring your staff here soon
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| We need smoke, we need smoke
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| So that my ears are fucking pawned
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| Understood!
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| Uncle rash to the brim, see how the capital is rocked
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| Chelyabinsk outskirts.
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| With rap firmly firmly,
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| My eyes are not really visible from under a deep cap
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| Until melted on hip hap
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| Stopar alcohol removed for understanding daddy
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| There's a talented monster in my head
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| Idea generator, but on the other hand, he is sick.
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| And it is not curable so to speak.
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| But he does not bazaar too much.
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| I got through the wire brother into your room |
| I need you to get out of the pool
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| Music can be worth more than gold if you invest
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| into her self
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| I invested exactly as much as I lived here.
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| At first with Fast big, then the whole squad.
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| Deeper into the mirages, we move to the right behind the garages,
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| Here is what is called fat repchik.
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| Those who are dead but alive. |
| In short, for our
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| I get something important from the depths of my soul
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| I close my eyes and hear voices
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| I take paper with a pen and start shredding
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| I didn't write it, hand wrote it myself
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| All their salam fell on the sides
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| Bro music the sidewalks the sounds of the gutters
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| We were not few
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| Now we are FUCKING!
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| We are unmeasured. |
| little time before the grave.
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| Devoted to hip hop, we walk side by side
|
| We have experience, and we know how without fawn.
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| And what sticks ready to defend "well fuck it"
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| And it will never stop
|
| You estimate will change the face to change the city
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| Style and presentation.
|
| But one thing I know for sure, when everything is over there will be a dense barrel.
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| We prepared the ground, studied the sky
|
| With a clumsy underline you were taught to rap
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| I don't know how to cut samples, I don't know what tempo I need |
| I wrote ice baby for her.
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| Ohhh how it was a long time ago, my city is dear, my garden is so dear to me.
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| Collar on you collar upside down back to front.
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| I'm rushing how people behave.
|
| So I saw the bottom, it was dark there.
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| Sorry, I don't want to go back for nothing!
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| I will do my best not to go under
|
| I'll pass the chip, save the brother, blow the bump.
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| Ay ay 74 I swear I wanted to make a positive track
|
| But again, it didn't work, unfortunately.
|
| I respect your move! |
| salute to Artem and Zhenya
|
| For those who are carpenters on the rap system
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| For whom all this is more than just a hobby
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| This country needs more time and a special approach
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| All the best from the bottom of my heart to everyone who lives this |