ТЯЖЁЛАЯ АТЛЕТИКА, RASKOL - МАКРОН
текст песни

Call me at night if you want some damage, bitch
It's not a joke to move bags, I recognized you in the crowd at night
I saw a couple of dots slide in my sock
We drew the plots as is, we’ll definitely throw them on the internet
Vadik Pence treats us every year
I remember in the Bensa area I left for retirement
Khabarovsk always warms a shovel in your pocket
The hucksters cry in the ditch, pissing bitch when their legs are broken
Although carrots and sticks don’t solve the problem here
Dashing years in the basement, so quickly I grew out of home
Frost on the skin, naked February crawls under the skin
Zozhu wastes together with dirt are not similar
Chemosis is tearing the brains of young boys
The boys are wasting away their years without showing off, God bless them
I've seen pale dashing ones
Time will take away your strength if you don’t leave that path
Heat in Hell
Measuring torque on the gearbox
And you're still the same rooster, look what I'll come up with next
I take the pipe to my lips and set it on fire deliberately
I spew out music, I tear the elastic strings with my fingertips
Your bones are low in calcium
Potential killer raises potency
I break a glass bong, shards from a towel
Was born a slippery baby
You want to come to my concert, then jump at the end
I look at the world through the sights, fuck a fat girl with a trailer
Beard on the face, cold in degrees Celsius
My mission weighed a lot, they call me to the east again
I cooked beef stroganoff, hobbled around without legs
Krovostok and Raskol are wearing headphones, I put the head on the table
Sniffed near Rostov
You rubbed your pussy on my leg
In a dream of garbage everyone will die
I respect Melstroy
There's a crazy cop under the windows
Macron is calling me, I'm cooking pasta
I sway at home to the groans of icons, as the Schism bequeathed to me
Splinters fly into the smoke, we cook drugs in Skolkovo
Garik regiment in shorts, Pulkovo airport, burning on a needle
A woman and a child match me, we shoot porn on film
Torn patch on the stick, knees fly out
This music captivates, although it is useless
Like any other
My friend is fooling me with his excellent head
During breaks, schoolchildren fuck around to the sound of sirens
Elena is dialing me
Stamps in Pelevin's book instead of a bookmark
Advances from albums instead of salary
In the night I meet the sunset, it's Elvis aka Musician