What's up Buddy? |
- here I am trampling LA
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By the way, in the song I heard your
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What is the mass of jokes, but in the little things, nuances
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Well, it's time to sort them out!
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Don't get high to write to you with your finger on the screen
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You are here, you knew that I came
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I'm waiting - can we catch up together?
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Everyone says - somewhere here you are ...
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But really, why are you having this conversation?
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In short, now to the subject:
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I noticed your muttering in my address
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I shrugged off gossip as much as possible
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I learned that with the filing of some
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John changed his mind about giving me a tour;
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Badi! |
Who is that opinion-maker?
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Who is the expert? |
Deny it!
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And here and there they say that you are against
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Something there;
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My new EP doesn't work for you
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Well, don't worry!
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At my concert, you suddenly turn up ...
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Blimey!
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Why did you come secretly? |
They take you to the dressing room
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And for VIP seats!
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My tracks with friends in common you are with a mine in the face
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flipped through
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Tore off my poster on the board
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Well, you did!
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But not about disrupting commerce
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Of course I'm writing to you - fuck her!
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On your influence I put mine
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I didn’t stutter about your goodwill
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Eremeev says - you were joking
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Over my EP
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I would not believe it, but he says - "Look for yourself"
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Badik, you are a moron!
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It's obvious you didn't know you were being filmed
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There's a hell of a shame!
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And you, right now, well, this is not a buzz
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I won’t upload it to the network - don’t drive; |
Ha!
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But I want you to know - my last EP -
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This is the main thing that I saved up!
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The idea was
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In senses that supposedly "can't be described";
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Let it be up to you,
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But he's really on his own vibe
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No tracing paper, no stamps
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I found it and developed it there;
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I'm left to guess
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That you just didn't understand my rap - nothing
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Or is it left to guess
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That for some reason you saw an enemy in me right now
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Is this revenge or what?
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Together we seemed to be friends for centuries
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So take the old man's advice
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After all, until you drew an equal!
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In our country now with heat
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There is a struggle for the crown of the genre
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I laugh, I don't interfere
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I do not participate, I praise everyone who fumbles;
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Who is occupying this throne in exile?
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Known chief editor in advance
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Awarded this title to the most worthy
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And not without reason;
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Here, sit deeper in this throne
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Do not swing, do not touch what is not needed;
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Rock like a ram, start like a tyrant
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And you will go to hell;
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I lament - is it into this nonsense
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Could our friendship grow?
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Returning to the night after El Gaucho:
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We are jumping on the roofs of wheelbarrows
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Our girls rhyme
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They cry from laughter. |
There are mega punches
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And everyone was full of sympathy...
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God bless you, Sinbadi! |