Баста feat. Смоки Мо - Про Питер
текст песни

Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky
Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky

I will throw screaming, he reflected from the walls
It will go out somewhere in the area ...
Indahouse MC and Bitmaker Vasya Vakulenko
I shout: "Peter, hello"
And the cry will drown in the noisy Nevsky
St. Petersburg
I always have anyone to meet here
Heiter burns in fire, rag stuffed up
Burning, illuminates harsh streets - Salyut, Kupchino
From the studio whore signals to his people with a Coach Morse
Bridges will be divorced, but Vasiliev Flag
Will get to the namesake Vasilievsky Island
Time machine, you want - you can ride
In Petrograd Tsarskoye, Leningrad Blocade
Peter gangster
Everything is visible and so, no special optics
The slaughter department will not catch antibiotics in any way
Lead sky, north wind of winter
Gulf of Finland, Moscow Station, Hockey SK
Blue-white-blue zenith
Sad sphinxes guard the prisoners in the crosses
To all of ours hanging there, the brothers of all the best
Seventeenth year, fierce revolutionary horror
Fortress of Peter and Paul, winter cruiser Aurora
Tea on Rubinstein orthodox is like a lousy rabbi
Marse Field, Eternal Flame, Spas-on-Blood
It is difficult to move between tourists on weekends and weekdays
... but be cultural in the capital of cultural
Gloomy city, I send respect to everyone with whom
With whom is familiar with personally and a sign through the muzlo, connected by a knot
I will throw things into a bag, departure from Vnukovo Sedoyo
I will be nine there, brother, meet me in Pulkovo
Yes, we are cards of different stripes, we are cards from different decks
But we are reduced to one layout of the heavenly puppeteer

Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky
Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky

I'm from St. Petersburg, and the first salute for Kupchino
Dreamed of the days when you call me a ray, remember
In the center on Marat with Arnold, we are charged
On the stable Poltshka pale, so that it is not boring
My style is like St. Petersburg rap - we don't know the victims
At first fun, then ..., then you want more
You made Smokey crazy
They did not believe, you ordered the rhymes to burn them
I'm nineteen, we are on Marse Field
Up to the first pair half an hour, with Ilyukha, incinerate Johnny
In the evening on the White nine, I might for the yuza
Something to cook there, in the kitchen for Marat and Fijuz
Rose from the bottoms in this city of dreams
The next room for KIS and cats from the Neva coast
On a black river in a hostel read to the roots
Not yet, knowing what chance will fall out
Look, I continue to fight, Romchik
Rest with the world, friend, we did not have time to say goodbye
I am met by gray -haired, I fly at seven
Kotyara St. Petersburg to the very brain of the bones
I still return to this city to my dear
To where the days melt and fly away, turning into smoke
Fly away, turning into smoke
I am leaving, but I will remain yours forever, do you hear?

Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky
Small northern paradise
Stone flowers
All bridges fall on the sky
And we fall to the sky