Эдгар - Бич
текст песни

Oxxxymiron: Don, the Volga flows, a knapsack on his shoulder chest pain - there is a secretary open, not the key, how many miles are still, the flight did not count the long dusty chopped, the van was packed with fragments - we’ll believe, our beds are portable The two ways are the minstrel - the corporate party or the apartment is the scheme of the same type, everything is now the MC, because the shift is generating, we have reached the change of paradigm now the rap is multi -party, Batlov, I look in the mirror like: “How many troubles you have dangled!” I would have enslaved all the rap, but all the time the nervous tick, valleocordin, the court, collect the trial, but we do not judge the first Cro -Magnons to the winners, we knocked out into people not pussy, I put on you, servants, five times, because we perform strongly, as if the jaw of the pitsanthropus chorus: my rap, if briefly about the fact that it is a year that the city is under the sole uphill when rushing, then under the mountain when I am sick, I’m not that Gulliver, but still the city under the sole under the sole, the city under the sole under the sole Traffic lights, state fees, fees and customs, I do not know in the grotto or to the bottom this path you live under the heel, I have a city under the sole of the second verse: past poplars and ripe bread of fields, where in bringing Yesenin Krkrest Moleben, I see the earth from minivan, I see the earth, I see the earth, I see the sky over it, we will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not Aquarius. Our earth drowning loners, as a stranger was a stranger, but security, Ilya, Ilya more than the family composed a bomb at night, I filled everything out of urine, I so wanted to belong to something more than I am an empty world, even with every second I am not a biorobot with a positive Komsomol member’s sky, save me from your panacea, home parasels, because for me to fuck the very end, tired us, Tony Stark, like the standard of a pair of countries, auto -track, Krasnodar, Tatarstan Moscow you will be a passport, we are at least for the Moscow Ring Office, at least by the Moscow Art Theater Madagascar, you know, the whole chorus: my rap, if briefly about the fact that it is a year that the city is under the sole uphill when rushing, then under the mountain when I am sick of gulliver, but still the city under the sole under the sole, The city under the sole of the traffic lights, state fees, fees and customs I do not know in the grotto or to the bottom this path you live under the heel, I have a city under the sole of the third verse: give me a force here, do not turn off and not break down routes, there is a settlement on the track And they are waiting for us today, a whiner, if they hadn’t been feminine on the Soundtracks for the journey again, the climb again dawn again, the road, the bag behind the back is all hastily, if it is so, rain, the cloudy bridge to Azgard, after you are just lucky With transport, I make each of my verse with a self -portrait, we often read rap like a speech therapist under a stencil of parapets, a logo on the wall is everywhere my teaching to everyone as a magician with a buffoet I am a star, give a warm blanket and a hood of napkins to wipe the ass and all the answer even said I even said well. I wouldn’t go to intelligence with you, I didn’t go to the tour with you, you didn’t go to Hawmi, know! Chorus: My rap, in short about the fact that it is a year that the city is under the sole to the mountain when rushing, then under the mountain when I am sick of gulliver, but still the city under the sole of the city under the sole, the city under the sole of the traffic lights, state fees , I do not know the fees and customs in the grotto or to the bottom this path you live under the heel, I have a city under the sole guard: what have you seen behind my smile? Three years, as on the road, but we are not snails with a world along a thread, christening - a wake Paleolithic principle: a million in your gate I do not appreciate the excuses of the scoundrels, but is it so important whose face is under this mask? So far, we’ll have a wheel in Dali ??? And we are dragged into a dream with a shaking razor - whatever the author meant for you, a dead nag and ballast unpaid balance, how to spend the night ??? And then the failure is not about us, only barely impatients us the need to collect the city along the bricks, like a tetris highway, sticky, like a patch of isolets even if I am tired, the fuck, behind the mask imperceptibly