| These are my rides and the topic that is still relevant today
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| Life-giving style, and official in May
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| I don't smoke an expert, I just give lines of the truth
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| And I am presenting stories that have caught up with me in my life
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| Let's play and go back now
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| And get into the rhythm of my fucking adventures
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| There is no shortage of rhymes
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| To tell it, son
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| It all starts in clouds of yellow smoke
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| Unaware of the deed
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| Distracted, I can barely fucking see here
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| And with a sore cross, he holds the steering wheels
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| Save a life, big chap in your resume
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| Because two meters ahead, and we would have candles burned
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| Road noose one moment and it's hard for you
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| But Kamil's luck did not affect this balance
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| Awesome moment, because I don't know if I'm kimam
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| Fucked carts, bloody head and neck
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| Call an ambulance
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| Because there is nothing to lurk about
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| And they came, they examined, and they took the homie
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| Kind of without panic
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| But the fuck knows what's gonna happen
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| Because a moment of no attention and the world can collapse
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| They evened out, about six months ahead
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| Too much alcohol and stuck in the car
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| Lost his mind, another cart to scrap
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| And the main characters avoided the grave again
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| These are life marathons what my head wanted
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| Thick logs below us
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| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
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| And I do not seem to be satisfied with them
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| These are life marathons what my head wanted
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| Thick logs below us
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| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
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| But for now, homie, I'm alive and well
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| Verse 2:
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| I make calls my friend answers
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| Comfort that he waits where the path ends
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| The flask floats inside me like a little boat
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| And the night is black as a currant and it turns me on
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| Suddenly no taste
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| 'Cause I can see someone's shoulders buckle
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| You're a fucking little one
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| As if Alibaba's grandson
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| Very smart
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| And he flies at me excited
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| And behind him some black jars are popping up
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| I can't
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| But I'm already having fun
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| And get the fuck out, I say
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| And Negroes weigh more than a hundred
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| It won't be great
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| Because someone here has too much nerve
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| They came in and the ass fucked up
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| Crooks in the group
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| They nailed to the emblem
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| Okay, because I can see the terror in their murders
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| An escort is running
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| My people plus the fever
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| And the whole situation is already starting to do the opposite
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| So flogging, fucked up
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| One, two, three, and the bill
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| The pavement is all clogged up
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| And we are already being cut
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| And in a moment detained
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| Through these law enforcement bodies
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| Severe states
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| And everything will go to us, brother
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| Although I was just defending myself
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| It won't end with a ticket
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| But the guy probably wasn't into sharia either
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| And he said keep it up
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| And they let us go to the cabin
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| These are life marathons what my head wanted
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| Thick logs below us
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| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
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| And I do not seem to be satisfied with them
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| These are life marathons what my head wanted
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| Thick logs below us
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| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
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| But for now, homie, I'm alive and well
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| Verse 3:
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| Fucked adventures all through my life
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| Even though it was beating harder, my heart still beats
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| One tactic
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| Don't make yourself die
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| Well, because Pluta has ballets, not wake
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| Another linden
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| Me and the neighborhood clique
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| We are furious with the 20th anniversary of Rych
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| Cart loaded, in whore staf and music
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| And in a moment the party got a bit quiet
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| Customs' view
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| Which is behind the barrier
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| And he looks at us shows that we are to stand here
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| We smoke jana
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| Because the drama is about to unfold
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| 'Cause the whole flap squad is already waiting
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| Nice eggs
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| But you have to go ahead
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| Because hello, hello, we are talking about not pasta
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| I am taking out what I bought in the morning
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| And fucking I think I'm going to have a samara fiver
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| And it failed
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| And here the wheels are already parked
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| They are around and I grind my snout like a cow
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| Typical action
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| Drops are pouring from my forehead
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| They asked for a driver and the conversation began
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| And here suddenly agreement
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| Young boys without fucking
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| Have a nice fuck, good luck, goodbye
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| And I don't believe it
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| Good arena direction
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| But I was fucking smoking the ground up to the end
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| These are life marathons what my head wanted
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| Thick logs below us
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| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
|
| And I do not seem to be satisfied with them
|
| These are life marathons what my head wanted
|
| Thick logs below us
|
| Black crows above us
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| And for each idea you have to harvest a lot
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| But for now, homie, I'm alive and well |