Grandmas bring problems, ah
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Bitches bring trouble, ah
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Anything that brings problems, ah
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Makes me a beast, ah
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Grandmas bring problems, ah
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Bitches bring trouble, ah
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Anything that brings problems, ah
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Makes me a beast, ah
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I fly up on the Hyundai "three six"
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My boys are ready to fucking kill you (kill you asshole)
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You will smile, because you are not ready to die so early, I
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My boys are shooting
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From trunks and mouzon (from mouzon)
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Your chelas are teens (chelas are teens)
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Your chelas are homeless (cheap fuckers)
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I am ready to kill for loved ones, I am ready to kill for loved ones
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It only took me one time to see you to understand that you are pussies (you are just pussy)
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You saw me
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You are like a fish - you were silent
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I will set your area on fire
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I'll pull your scum so you don't fucking get bored
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It infuriates them when we win here,
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But who will aim everything at them?
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It's so cold where we live
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So I go upstairs without them
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Grandmas bring problems, ah
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Bitches bring trouble, ah
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Anything that brings problems, ah
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Makes me a beast, ah
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Grandmas bring problems, ah
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Bitches bring trouble, ah
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Anything that brings problems, ah
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Makes me a beast, ah
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Who do you want to be playing a silent movie, not your episode?
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It's so hard for me to hold on to the edge, it's even harder to fall from heights
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People are cruel by nature
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You know, here, how lucky
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Today you breathe oxygen, tomorrow you absorb nitrogen
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A buffoon is not joking at gunpoint
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Apparently our humor took him by surprise
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And he is already deceased, though not yet withered
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On the microphone, the one who is perfectly bad
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When I saw blood, there were fragments of a bong in my hand
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I understand, it only breaks, bitch, where it's thin
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Let's kill those faggots
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Let's shove them back with this "keep it real"
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What makes us meaner? |
Lack of their powers
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“You can see everything in the eyes,” my grandfather told me
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Pray yourself, but step aside the pastor
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At the bottom they won't tell you how to fly up
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I will answer: “Bro, there is no money, but hold on”
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We fight for peace, we kill for life
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Fuck so many problems?
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Meditated, polished Parabellum
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I will shoot even at their steles
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When the blood stops warming the body
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Who is Nelson Mandela for these blacks?
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There will be money - we will shoot the film "Saw" in the Seychelles
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Later, in karaoke, Kirkorov sang them
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World of black and white, I know what's up
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Problems, problems, problems
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Fuck them, problems also have a limit
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And while the clowns in makeup are having fun
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You can withdraw into yourself from what you see in their stream
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It hurts, it hurts, like in a movie, when a bullet hits you on the back of the head
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I'm in this smoke like a fish in a smokehouse
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Every step is seven miles
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But who will play whom in this soap opera?
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Tired
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Let the Impala take me to hell
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Life hits me here every other day
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Where smiles with a grin we beat against the rocks
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She pinches my brain to say goodbye to the astral
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So that I leave with a scandal
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Bitches and money, what happened to me?
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We need to gang bang, pick up the pedestals |