СТРУКТУРА - Маргиналы
текст песни

I fly into a beat
Fat brother is smoking again
I can't get into the rhythm
The bitch is sleeping on my lap
I'm slightly unshaven again
The taste of blood, the yard, repeating
The taste of blood - life is seething
My brothers, like Zabit
Oppa, pee yourselves
I fuck like J. Cole
The cat purred in jest
I lisp - like a motherfucker
Kettle, house, stove, pu-erh
I write hits like a sick person
Alisa writes me beats
Yo yo yo
Rolled a cigarette, laid it out on the balcony
Wrote a couple of lines
Zoomers are standing there, drooling something, "a guy's word"
Get out of the way, you bastards
We grew up in a gang
At a traffic light, like a sick person, I park the car sideways
Chery owners, shit,
For the expense Something's stifling.
The pole's a meter away from me.
I'm sweating a little, let me drink some water.
Our skufs, brothers, Sculptor, come on, fuck me.

While the pimply nerd is playing Dota.
I'm writing a couple of lines with this Okun for fun.
Sculptor Underground? No, that's a true style, just for fun.
He serenely stuck his mass to the couch.
Rap plays in the street year after year.
And I gave up on this fashion and went to work.
Yeah, I know, yeah, I remember.
It would have been better if he'd kept up the beat, bitch, punching is fun.
At ease! At ease! Spent a year in captivity
Now I'm driving a tank in GTA, like a Camry
I don't respect idiots, I love Coca-Cola
Come on, Simon, give me a hand, I'll take off the stereo
What could be cooler than Louis Vuitton
And I'll tell you - it's a pack of draft
Ciga is playing in the yard, three stripes on the tracks
But I never thought I'd love Bosuzoku