| Piercing wind, small drops fall into the face
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| Life slips a marked card into the deck again
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| We are only at the start line, we are making plans, drawing projects
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| Behind the back is almost thirty, the devils are tearing to pieces
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| Here, to be honest, you have to be callous
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| I listened to you for a long time, and you know, it smells like scab here
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| Thunderstorm of the district, you are the first guy in Putilkovo
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| My soul hurts for you, as if I cut my cuticle,
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| But then our paths diverged, here they drink until they start to feel sick
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| On the wall of the pot. |
| Bro, slow down, you start borscht
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| Here autumn meets with bread and salt
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| This is our broadcast, you call it underground
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| We are marking time in one place, like on Friday evening of the Moscow Ring Road
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| Something is not fun when the whole alignment is on hand
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| The shores (Cities of Ka) are burning, so much so that with blue fire
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| I smile at you, but nothing will take away my sadness
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| Nothing will take away my sadness, as it came, it sits
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| You are violent, so you will be seeded
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| Everyone is jammed like a can of sardines
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| You rewound the whole service in toilets
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| We hide in apartments
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| Don't cry, Tatyana, I'll get your ball
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| Here someone is constantly looming in the subway
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| You sing about violence, are you a maniac, or what?
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| My lighthouse is not visible due to the closed curtain
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| No willpower, better give them salt
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| This is Russian mother, here are hands from the ass
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| Everyone spins as best they can so that the shackles do not close on their hands
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| I change my iPad for a corkscrew, open canned food
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| Who is the best in the underground?
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| I don't care, the answers are in a crooked mirror
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| Everything is heated to the limit (A) to the boiling point
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| On the monitors, set the sound for the mad dog
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| Extra weaving is not a hook, rap in Russian is absurd
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| The soul is closer to heaven, but in life I'm a dick like a black man
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| Shyness interferes with anger, who lives well in Russia (So would I)
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| In the wake of the jacket, I burned weekends and weekdays
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| Under the patriotic recitative, the motor knocks
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| Under the usual motive, the head will involuntarily shake to the beat
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| Memory failure again
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| I write in notes, everyone around is right, and I'm a blockhead
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| Since I live according to your rules, I dance to your tune
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| Ah, everyone around is right, and I'm a blockhead
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| Since I live according to your rules, I dance to your tune
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| The weather seems to be mocking us, the cold killer wind
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| I blew all the brains, now you are stupid,
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| But what were the ambitions
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| And you wonder how they could have been born in you
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| Love, illnesses
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| God forbid, such an infection
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| Treating which, you can simply sleep
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| I saw faces in whose eyes there is emptiness,
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| But life is too short to understand
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| Where to go, where to turn when the road diverges on the way
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| Do not make a mistake, and decide for yourself that I will always be alone
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| After all, there are no such people on whom you can rely on one hundred percent
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| I don't know how long it will take me
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| In order not to regret the lost
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| I put down roots here like a tree
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| I saw a tiger without claws and fangs with a cute face
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| I saw businesslike in shirts,
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| But from the businesslike they had only shirts
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| Happiness is waving to me there in the distance
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| I'm stuck looking beyond the horizon, as if it's ours
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| Like it's ours
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| Everything is good |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Не уймёт, artist - Синтетика. Album song Храни мои окраины, in the genre Русский рэп