м у т а н т ъ х в л а м - р ж а в ы м к о т а м р ж а в ы е l a p t i ч а с т ь .3
текст песни

Zagibon, crooked in the mirror of Gibbon
Three in the outlet of my finger
Licking moss is not to tremble
Outside the acacia window they bloom on the locations of the mast
The head of the head of the naked vagich
chopping chips of the dome, Chuck Palanik,
Quiet hour in the wards, such a ruddy collage
Belly leaf and you will lie down right away
For sausage grill and chickens, I am already
bite off the wings - the thirst for violence was thickened
Tolerantna Russia if not drunk
less likely to kick and remember the hedgehogs, they are dented
And there is no hope, but I will give it cheap
dative case, and the one who sleeps is the speeder
Torpedoism and drinking alcohol, the assurance is broken
Vera sniffs, said Tver visited
Closed the door, badly reaching the square
who sings he will sing the first

year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
full

shaking a cable aleha sailor grew
The steam locomotive on the rails shake we
We sail to the south Captain Jung twist
Yulu showed the arrow
The steam locomotive exhales on the circle
steam we read Poasso Lasso
We throw on the meat like Poasso bites
Asa Picasso draws on
Pano, like wine heals wounds
It is getting nullified
Tibet ate a pill
I broke a corroded outlet
Oh no, no

year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
The year is short

Old school, I still drive shuhu
On the eyebrows, the seam, not in the blood saved
He will not let the compass will point to the north. did not sit down, cheer
And your voice is bent in stripes verse
and so easily comprehended, and so embarrassed to copy
What are your opuses?
It happens even if the music does not roll
and cigarette tastes with coffee are no longer sad
And let him never let me go
What or who is the muse today? And you are too dull Mr.
albeit in expensive Rituses and shoes of the Chester
but then be honest, who is here, among the smoking pipes
The coast of karma. Figaro-Figaro
I recruit stones sorting out the frames in my memory
The heretic was rolled to the stake.
fuck who is wrong, not bad and so
and like hip-hap and not in expensive slippers
Pull the collar, there is emptiness and solves cabbage
And not that group of Casta, and hello
New day you are white blue red
This is not the best point in populated, but I still
blue-green. Under this anthem [Fricigs dance]

year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
year a short jacket for a chin is small a town and roads like a full box
with a hill