Тяжёлая атлетика - ВЕРНИТЕ ПАРКИНА
текст песни

Your little sister's got a fashion leak,
Come on, don't hesitate,
We had a blast on "The Wanderer" even if we were hanging out,
We've got Chivas, mushrooms, Yegor Gagarin on the mic,
He's taking your virginity,
And we're smoking dill even for six,
Not a thing in my eye,
Lost my mind again,
Hanging out with a fat Sberbank,
I'll tell you right now,
When blue cigarettes weigh heavily on my soul,
And you even treat the cops with your licks,
Why do you need a machine gun,
That track from childhood is "please stand-up"
Hip-hop needs to be sneaked into the squads,

You can't bring it back
I remember the time we ate a wheel,
You can't bring it back
I took a test with Misha like an oar
You can't bring it back
The drug dealers got together for the sake of words
You can't bring it back
It was fucking fun

Where are those wild years?
DoB or chemistry?
Alder branches.
For as long as I can remember, I've been churning out poetry.
Without any pretensions to a hit or a sophisticated cunning.
Nine shots at Achilles (pow)
And life passed so quickly.
Where is that thrill of sensation (ah)?
Simple scheme, when we're all smashed to pieces on a wanderer (ooh)

A whole heap of things that touch the heart.
Trapezoids grow from Parkin's verses.
Athletics, the burning spices.
Like the sun above the clouds.
Your sleep will be the best, but eternal (ha).
So inhumanely, I treat my memory with a first aid kit.
But it's less and less every day.
And there's nothing left to treat.

You can't bring it back.
I remember stomping around the house to the tune of evil poets.
Lil Wayne was spinning the wheels in a Bentley.
While they were breaking up the picket fence around the block,
The "Strannik" studio gave birth to all this.
I remember wandering around under the magpie on the left.
Stealing chips and wandering through the entryways.
In the front, we sang songs to Leps's backing tracks.
There's fierce gunpowder and mixtures at Slava's kebab shop in the area.
A style that's not at all sober.
You can't put life on repeat.
The thought of a wanderer will give birth to this verse.
So, how are you? Flashbacks from a lived life
Under the tiles, my faun's consciousness will expand
The hellish one still whispers behind the screen
In shorts under the sun on Frunze, out of tune
Our lineup was a bit large
Now we're blowing three barrels without going crazy
Time has decided, fate has torn us apart globally
Cities have expanded us
We walked the road as Shiva bequeathed to us
But life is not a label or a badge
Some live by this theme, while others are shattered by systems
It's a bit difficult and sometimes depressing
Passengers look at passing cars with disgust
And the blue wind from the flooded Magnitka
So we carry our ballast of lost years (years and years)