Dvame - Грустная вечеринка
текст песни

Sad party
Smell of a box of zinc
Who is your little one with?
This bitch is so fast
Someone's glass
Someone's glass of alcohol was broken there
Foliage is burning around, nickels, spring
There are mini malvins around, you can't go wrong

Sleeping city
The mafia looks at the drying gunpowder
Peaceful people don't sleep, they hang out on bones
Cursing those they won't see on the news
Let's break it down
Everything that was far away, we throw everything into the basement
Golden chains and nets, we throw women on the sofa
We take over the liquor store, we fill up the block
Smells of ultra malvinas
I'm hammering on t nine, I'm calling everyone by voice
He burned Malvina in his storyline on the table
I say hello to them with a GIF sticker on the trunk
We're hammering the area
What happened, we scored, what will happen, we score
They smoked, made noise, started playing in the whole yard
We've invited all the Judases, we'll throw them all face down on the floor
The disco was turned over and the millstones flew
He who does not indulge in pleasures is no longer our brother
I let go of my girlfriend, well, consider it not yours
Communism at the party, she's a generous soul

Sad party
Smell of a box of zinc
Who is your Malvinka with?
Sad party
Smell of a box of zinc
Where is your Malvinka
A?

We loaded the guns
Yes, we know what will happen here, we are not saints either
They set fire to the dance floor, Judas, dropped the bottles,
For thirty, now everyone gets a bullet in the head
Someone's glass
Someone's glass of gasoline was spilled there
Eyes are burning all around, coppers, the abyss
There's a fog around the mile, until the body's ashes
The millstones were laid out
Everywhere the smell of barbecue, the taste of potatoes, two ribs
The meat tastes sweet washed down with three plus
Somewhere I hear “Help”, I don’t fall for it
I load the armor-piercing gun, I aim at the chick's face
She would like to touch her tits, but there is no reason to dirty them
I knock my eye out on the wall, the chick has no brains at all
Well, okay, less bitch, more hole, that's it
I'm done with the party, I'm spinning my heads like a DJ
Via bluetooth, tits to curling iron, like a rial dualshock
The walls were covered with graffiti, interesting, new style
All fried well, marble-meat smell

Sad party
Smell of a box of zinc
Where is my Malvinka
Ah...here she is

Sad party
Sad party
Sad party
Sad