Everything is the same, brother, there is chaos in the regions,
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Invisible graters in the top of the head, and what do you want
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Lovers of drinking and basking and mats, kings of muddy affairs
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And the cops are here with the radar, you know this department
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The car numbers are familiar, this is an opera and we don’t wake up kind of serve this guy
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tell me to do f*ck
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Pants stuffed with bags of punks, step shmani, kotofoty boys forgot
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New ones got themes near the heels, where hashish is so swanky
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People are sticking out, people are carrying mother's gold to the pawnshop, dear sons for a quarter of the price.
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Then it’s not the soup that boils, and the nest too, the blat hut of experimenters with needles under
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skin, oh my god.
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The streets are seething with lonely whores, spears for the sake of the road or car,
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kennel beds,
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And we were not and will not be cute gentlemen, perish the abyss, at least all perish
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at least everything is s*k.
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Apparently invisibly - the paths are so clogged, madams are forgotten, well, where should they go?
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Hey, I'm here with the masta rams brothers, killed and that's why
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Someone like a cop varick doesn't have to show us how he looks
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I am conducting a monologue about the same trouble, about the lost heel, about many of those who are not underground,
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but in hell.
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Bars of fume and vary, negotiations, so that on a nickel, papiers do not fall under the eyes
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Police Department, who is not ordered to be thrown with chalk, otherwise there will be trouble.
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Better stay hovering, the mentality is different soaring, you will get an evil poisonous poppy infusion.
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You run, don’t run, either here or there, whether it’s trouble, because wherever her heel is stupid
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this environment will sink the steamer.
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Chorus:
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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A couple of cans and sachets given in these minutes, filled my tank
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The booths are again killed for whom the prisons are crying, mm so
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Moths here are more than dogs, the cops are attracted by the check of owls, like matsanin balls are burning
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hour share junkies.
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Carries a jug of drink, hashish resin, a stall of the soul, they take kusha from the floor, braza,
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stop don't hurry.
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It’s not worth going to bed soon, so as not to be broken, not dragged like felt to the car
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So as not to be kicked and not taken under the rims and put out in a pack.
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Damn halls, here the dogs are muddied, white coal is pouring and bitches take off their panties
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The mineral stains his mustache, the dogs gum is oblique, the cars inside under the bass, in pitching again
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days are dead
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The day is killed by an essay about him, the handwriting is familiar, so so so so and scribbles secretly,
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Diga about other such
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Under the blows of barrels and the background of Duke Elington, at night, not sleep comes, broken with a beat and
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his motives.
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My banal story may not be for you, nonsense for the masses, my years,
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Years to attack, a trace for an hour can only, or maybe vice versa too ...
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Chorus:
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling.
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Something yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, go on as usual, cities are boiling. |