| Outside the window, the chimneys of neighboring houses are again smoking
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| The boys from Tula are being taken again (They are being taken again)
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| A black A5 rolls across the yard
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| 15th year, fuck-nap, but don't sleep in the area
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| Heels sparkle, there is a cross on the body, but not holy
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| In boiler houses, peps got into bribes, the prosecutor was biased
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| I shake the suspension on the primer, I'm sad
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| Music plays, watermelons roll in Cruz's trunk
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| And we, damn it, have only steppes and poisonous snakes
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| All legs in burdocks, cutting here is a bad idea
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| Like bones, foliage crunches underfoot
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| Life will make you stand on the bridge like a fucking gymnast
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| We have crosses - this is a loose concept
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| Someone wears underwear, someone goes to regime
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| You refresh your memory, but I won't sit next to you
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| All our fluva remained in 2010
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| Pressure rises in the skull
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| Even if insured, life can be short
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| It's easier than ever to fuck everything that is without going beyond two colors
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| The scope of what is permitted is determined by concrete
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| At work, the Chapiteau circus, in private life, a hangout
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| Happiness loves silence, drowning in the orchestra pit
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| Yes, well, fuck, they used to hammer often
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| Well, now what, now that's enough
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| Like a turtle hiding in my shell
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| A couple of lines to thicken the colors
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| Darkness enveloped the courtyard gently |