| Little Ram is a parasite
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| Little Ram, hit
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| Brother, well, you develop a style
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| Yes, do not let yourself be thrown into a precipice and confuse the strength in you to drag
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| Every day I said to myself:
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| "You have everything in your hands
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| If you are not talented like Pak or someone there
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| Then you have to fight your way strictly like a tank"
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| Sometimes I can't be understood:
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| Now a friend, now an enemy, now pleasant, now a reptile,
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| And nonsense comes out of your mouth
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| It's like I've been drinking for a month, barely pressing the stopcock
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| I trampled the telethresholds, I got into holes in TV
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| To understand that my plan is bad as a plan
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| And I'm just a kid
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| Or a drug addict who doesn't remember his father
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| That's probably why it's so
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| He beheaded himself so as not to depend on blessings
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| And the more I act like a fool
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| The later you'll see there's a hole in the heart, yaw
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| In the meantime, I'm tearing ligaments on stage
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| Yes, like the last time, jumping in the slam
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| From the very beginning I saw this as a goal
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| Become more weighty, but not with a chain
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| My fan, thanks for trying to hit the pain points
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| I would be covered with dust for sure
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| No more posts gnaw at me
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| Nor postirony prickly stuffing
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| I will peck my nose into the document to give out the text
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| Come to your senses, I'm not just an MC, I'm a mix
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| Experience and genuine flow
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| They'll let you shit like a missile system
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| Listen to crime fiction
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| I have a worm's skull
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| Our people love meat but don't mind fat
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| I wave my hands like Shiva is toasting
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| And here in front of you, brother, thousands of eyes
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| Jury, judges, working class
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| They all crave feedback, like the first time
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| And I read the track, fucking like "Our Father"
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| I give myself to you
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| And we melt like in a house of wax figures
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| You have come to the address
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| It's up to us
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| I give myself to you
|
| And we melt like in a house of wax figures
|
| You have come to the address
|
| It's up to us, yeah
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| Get on the dance floor, cut down the fast flow
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| You fly onto the dance floor, we'll make a shaking
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| You fly onto the dance floor, cut down the fast flow
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| You fly onto the dance floor, we'll make a shaking
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| The order to explode all urgently
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| I'm waiting for the end to fit into the slam
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| I fuck the audience, because these are my children,
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| And I guard them like Jackson in Neverland
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| The bar will close
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| But we will break in to sow a nightmare
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| In Highbury there will be a mix of those abandoned by you
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| All the truant couples in the university
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| Landmarks on posts
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| Parodied by NASCAR
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| Traffic jams under me - nine-point Moscow
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| The paramedic picked out the Passat from my orbits
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| Three fingers up, boy!
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| But wait, I started a fucking century ago
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| And your advice to me like what to do and how
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| Need more than pussy eyes, yow
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| I am from the lower class
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| Right now my army is bigger than Kinshasa
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| Small flashes me so often
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| Artyom Tarasov began to cosplay her
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| Fuck your Gucci Gang
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| I'm only interested in burning slam
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| At my concerts this mosh pit band
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| Vollov hastat is devoutly chopped
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| I give myself to you
|
| And we melt like in a house of wax figures
|
| You have come to the address
|
| It's up to us
|
| I give myself to you
|
| And we melt like in a house of wax figures
|
| You have come to the address
|
| It's up to us, yeah
|
| Get on the dance floor, cut down the fast flow
|
| You fly onto the dance floor, we'll make a shaking
|
| You fly onto the dance floor, cut down the fast flow
|
| You fly onto the dance floor, we'll make a shaking |