Chemodan, OU74, Murovei, yo
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Yo, come with me, the lines are torn in an instant
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Zero pathos, let's move your beard
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Remember, nigga, Chemo is major league (che)
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Carpets are like whitefish bending
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One day, thanks to what, no matter, the signs
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Hardly wisdom, and hardly courage
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It's a thirst to stir up, ruining the paper
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Vegetable stew, well, or meat stew (t-t-t)
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Yo, this is such a saga
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Here the infantry and tanks under the guise of a magician
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We don’t need much, before the release of the hapka
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Stands quietly brother, cynologist in confusion
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Comrade, do not drive, but we ourselves are hitchhiking
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Here the boys are punched, saturated with hip-hop
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We don't need much, a stash under the hood
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Stopped by the cops, asked for a photo
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We send lines to the mic, if you're sleeping, get up
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Do not be fooled and the path without changing
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Like many years ago, I urge you to open your eyes wider
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At least who believes in something (believed in something)
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Let's take it for growth, so that in a year
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So again the eyes lit up, the plane was able to fly
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I get out of bed and my body is hip hop
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Everyone will take and share the track, this birthday cake |
Around only confetti and loud firecrackers
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The sounds caress my ears, the rapper dances on the tank (uh, hey)
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This is Chelyabinsk and everything is micro (oh)
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Like in one block here, but not forgetting about your house
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Moura, I will continue, brother
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There are also masters of parkour and pros to chop on a large scale
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Muay Thai, skill growth in everyone
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They will explain on the fingers, and you use your brain
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OU seven h-h goes to the point
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4:20 shows boys watch
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Follow me quickly, let's go, let's go
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Let's warm the tonsils, Kazyan, a-yo
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Yo-yo-yo-yo-yo
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I inhale the coal, it was so hot, the plaque started to flow
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I mutter a couplet under my breath, as if I'm praying
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Bring this minus here, I'll hug him
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Sample put on a cloak, but I cry bass
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Cockroaches fucked up when they saw the ashes under the plinth
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I exhale, the smoke enters the microphone
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Boys from one country come to our house
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Through the depths of the lines, the nail in the areas of the arms and legs
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Not yet a broken syllable, what is sought at hand
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From these smoke windows, thoughts fly to the sheet
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Fall to the east, fly into the kindling
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From south to north, in the pocket of a lucky clover
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You overwrite what is not true - I do not believe |
Familiar with Uncle Bens, waiting for Uncle Harvey
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We burn our bakeries on a lathe
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Vali until melted, so that everyone has enough for you
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Remember, I was pinning, there is no naebalov
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This is not jazz or blues, put the beat on the loop
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Brother, open the hatch, salute to all the locals
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They poured it to all the locals, but as always they won’t pour me
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In this dining room, the chef cooked garbage
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But the brother leveled the sound correctly
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But the brother did four out of two
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At my brother's, we smoke mahr on three of the six strings
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Whistle pipes whistled
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Being in the world of beats and a cappella, we lay without retreats
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I'm ready to water with syllables, like from AK on the walls of misunderstandings
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And the words fly off the tongue
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Brother broke off a piece from a loaf of stone, smoked for the world
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Here they poison cockroaches, put on a gas mask
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Collecting palms with a mouthpiece, yelling: “It's time!”
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OU, This is Tankograd, PTZ and Minsk
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We shake the frame with a bunch, we loosen the dome
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I stood with a micro in my hands and told, in fact, I did not confuse anyone
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People somehow pulled themselves out of the street
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I immediately redeemed my eyes, they say my
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But the fictional world oozes into reality, do not understand where |
I open the ziplock, the smell of spices, I put a piece in the dishes
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Gathering in a circle, conjuring with sound
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There will be no calm here as long as we blow |