| 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. |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Что Да, То Да , by - Рем Дигга. Song from the album Глубина, in the genre Русский рэп