| In short, fan the flame out of all this yourself,
|
| And give me and my dogs cameras
|
| Live broadcast plus a couple of packages for a brother
|
| Estimate, rhythms and tempos are already valued in carats!
|
| Wait for the second act, portions of northern bullets
|
| Sorry, but we don't need a cult! |
| Strict tone
|
| Not chasing dead presidents
|
| Fuck this pathos, braza. |
| We are for rubles
|
| What the fuck is going on here, don't you get it?
|
| Who is this on the screen? |
| Damn, why are they goofing off?
|
| In short, along the way we are here for a long time
|
| Calmly! |
| Stock up on smoke and swill
|
| We have already started to drive: we wrote, polished
|
| Tortured rhymes, kicked shit, bred
|
| Fucked, bantered, sharpened, soaked drama
|
| You know, I even know someone from Notre Dame
|
| Even a bull will lie down under a strong word
|
| If our theater is a kitchen, my role in it is also a butcher
|
| Our tracks represent the purest side
|
| Beats are like reservations, promos are the background
|
| Prepare six crowns, five cords
|
| Do you remember, in the beginning I called to the Almighty Guru
|
| And he heard me, translated the queens
|
| This is the end, but I'm sure not my game |