TEZ - До гроба
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TEZ - До гроба - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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А я не спрятал своя язык за зубы.
Красками пачкала муза.
Новую песню по вкусу,про стритовый груз и тусы.
Тут не пусто,со мною бит содрагающий люстры.
Тернистый путь,а так же на груди облик иисуса.
Я готов,тащить свой драный плот.
Постараюсь не пропасть из виду,чтоб не взвыли панихиду.
Сердце не отдать за прибыль,брата не принять за гниду.
Чаще исполнять визиты,не хлебав горячей литры.
И тогда,этот быт изволит быть краше.
Выдернув иглы из спин и ярлык со знаком павший.
А пусть всё станет как раньше,
там где шагал я маршем.
До этих пор как узнали,то что сынок обезбашен.
И он всё дальше тащит кеды по асфальту,
Зная каждый камень,был изучен за эти годы скитанья.
Был не обычен образ,рэпером кличали в спину...
было видно как всё же похуй на эту горстку дебилов.
Тут ночь несла прохладу,вино горчило горло.
Личное соло играло,где то в нутри на аккордах.
Жёлтые листья летали,осень туманила разум.
Но ноги в дом не шли,оставались в этой грязи.
Руки писали что то,уста шептали рифмы.
Так и посей день сидит он,держит хип хап на репите.
Из этого не выйте,он не в адеквате,
Пацан переполнен страстью,с которой стал создатель.
Мечты храня и тратя,скуля за тюлью в хате.
Был безупречно спасён,ангелом в шикарном платье.
Так защимиои пальцы,стержень в два раза сильнее.
Чёрствые мысли пропали,вернув любовь и веру.
А я до гроба,с этой музыкой в груди.
И снова я кладу свой хрип на струны.
And I did not hide my tongue for my teeth.
Musa bread paints.
A new song to taste, about the cutting load and the tus.
It is not empty here, with me a bit of the sprinkling chandeliers.
The thorny path, as well as on the chest, the appearance of Jesus.
I am ready to drag my drain raft.
I will try not to disappear from the sight, so as not to take a paneir.
The heart does not give for profits, brother do not accept for Gnid.
More often to execute visits, not breadwinning hot liter.
And then, this life will freeze to be more.
Having reserved the needle from the spin and the label with the fallen sign.
And let everything be as before,
where I walked march.
Until at that, they found out that the son is an intensity.
And he still drags sneakers on asphalt,
Knowing each stone, the Skitnya was studied over these years.
It was not commonly ordinary, rapper knew in the back ...
It was seen as still fucking on this handful of morons.
Then the night carried the coolness, I was sore throat wine.
Personal solo played somewhere in chord inside.
Yellow leaves flew, autumn mist dismiss.
But the feet in the house did not go, remained in this dirt.
Hands wrote something, mouth whispered rhymes.
So he sits the day, he holds Hip Hap on the spin.
From this do not leave, he is not in adequate,
The boy is filled with passion from which the creator became.
Dreams of storing and spending, cheeky for tulle in the hut.
It was flawlessly saved, an angel in a chic dress.
So protected fingers, the rod is twice as stronger.
Surrevy thoughts disappeared by returning love and faith.
And I am to the coffin, with this music in the chest.
And again I put my larger on the strings.
Musa bread paints.
A new song to taste, about the cutting load and the tus.
It is not empty here, with me a bit of the sprinkling chandeliers.
The thorny path, as well as on the chest, the appearance of Jesus.
I am ready to drag my drain raft.
I will try not to disappear from the sight, so as not to take a paneir.
The heart does not give for profits, brother do not accept for Gnid.
More often to execute visits, not breadwinning hot liter.
And then, this life will freeze to be more.
Having reserved the needle from the spin and the label with the fallen sign.
And let everything be as before,
where I walked march.
Until at that, they found out that the son is an intensity.
And he still drags sneakers on asphalt,
Knowing each stone, the Skitnya was studied over these years.
It was not commonly ordinary, rapper knew in the back ...
It was seen as still fucking on this handful of morons.
Then the night carried the coolness, I was sore throat wine.
Personal solo played somewhere in chord inside.
Yellow leaves flew, autumn mist dismiss.
But the feet in the house did not go, remained in this dirt.
Hands wrote something, mouth whispered rhymes.
So he sits the day, he holds Hip Hap on the spin.
From this do not leave, he is not in adequate,
The boy is filled with passion from which the creator became.
Dreams of storing and spending, cheeky for tulle in the hut.
It was flawlessly saved, an angel in a chic dress.
So protected fingers, the rod is twice as stronger.
Surrevy thoughts disappeared by returning love and faith.
And I am to the coffin, with this music in the chest.
And again I put my larger on the strings.
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