listen to my story:
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yesterday I was on top
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went to McDonald's by taxi,
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paid for everyone
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ms'il on the party,
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rocked 500 people,
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champagne, cigars, V.I.P success.
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this morning I woke up like this:
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around a mess
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dryness in the mouth,
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damn, ran out of tobacco,
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naked in the pocket,
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on mobile debt,
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the water was turned off
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screwed up the computer
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I brewed a second
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smoked bull,
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turned on the rapper.
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spring is flowing outside the window.
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on the bedside table there is a ticket for a flight,
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touring, hip-hop,
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so everything is going right.
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boom bag bye bye.
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I'm like in a Hao Hai film,
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mess with the weather,
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but I didn't screw up.
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not a ruble, but in the morning I threw a couplet,
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mata around fucking well and fuck it there.
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water drips from the tap in time,
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I don't know how much whale teeth cost,
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in the bustle |
this question does not interest me,
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because it's belebird.
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cars, planes, trains,
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back and forth, vanity, everything is as always,
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big cities, railway stations, airports,
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a beloved and three cats are waiting at home.
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I have similar texts
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boring something rhyme is incomprehensible.
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thought is not solved, so it is necessary,
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so that you can still understand yourself,
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I'm ready to record my album
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it's early, I guess
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gotta sleep.
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you have to think about what to plow tomorrow,
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buy cigarettes, or stop smoking them.
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crap again and a lot of swearing.
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hunting from scratch, again,
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desire to live and not grieve,
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think mathematically
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and stop drinking.
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hunting for a steering wheel
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hunting for the helm of the aircraft to sit down,
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do maneuvers on a submarine,
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on an earth satellite, the astronaut's food to eat.
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damn it, again, again, yes, belyash, well, damn it!
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I've been toiling since morning,
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smoked a kent.
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the cases that he fucked yesterday,
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caught up today.
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Chelyabinsk is not Versailles,
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here are different addresses:
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Marchenko, Bazhov, Kotin, Spartak, Komsa.
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punished with half a box,
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and went into himself.
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answered rudely to mother,
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but in the depths of my soul I love.
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with greetings, the hand of a familiar type flies to me.
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evening H and me with a bottle of cold beer.
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the guys are waiting for me a piece of 12 lines,
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and it took me a couple of hours to meet the deadline.
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I can't dance the factrot,
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and I don't know the waltz.
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I do nonsense, I pick my nose with my finger. |