Juno Dee - Отрифмую и умру
текст песни

Comeric spit of money heads of lousy
She does not want to leave hip hop in the ears alive in his ears
I am more pleased to see cultures alive
Rather than pushing the gently scorched layer of rhymes
In the cellars of kach, the people are sluggish selection of sleeping and small
They also care
Brook's gross black black muffle
Referring with the support near the sitting friend
The hand trembling brings new lines to the sheet
Hearing captures colibania of indoor flies
I am attracted by the view of wide rags of dirty bribes
Whore shmariks plastic or smells
We are villains Juno Dee Negro drives
Hap, the owner of the plate of black strips hears
We do not skate on mobiles do not get into mobile phones
We just ply under the bit without mediocre for villas
Relay a reagent, explosive bit!
This is what you need to collect the team!
Children of the streets of the ukla smartnets are dangerous for rudeness
Before the teeth departure, while the brain eliminates all the stupidity
Without taking off the poster for the back onyx is gere!
Before the loss of the pulse, giving up everything from outside
Three -legged gritted teeth squeezing his fist
Outside the window frame, beatings and fights
The past without a pawnment flowed into the pantry
I left New and let the wolves howl
Hey dude and you have eaten the smell of lava more than once
You, like TP, Ignorant SDA got into an accident (EHE)
Phenomenal view of the city of muri
Blue leaves scars on each other for a sandwich
Maine Samos, natural selection
There is no way to get with Dali bund out point -blank
Where the knock of cars and the illegal dispute
Time of digitable 12 It is time to engage in digging
From parks to the trick of dirty pipes and lanterns
Bit will score a khap of culture in the one who is not yet in it
Mafon still tears in shuffling catacombs
There is a ceiling in the graffiti of culture
The talents of such places did not throw the ruble into our hat
The victim of the fraud of the hands stretch to the staph
I'm not a street tramp I don't pack tin
I am only rhyme word Zaspery all in bottles
I don't need picens I don't have a local gang surgeon
Throwing the hood eluded into the fences of likes
I am scattered and in the mounds of lines dude
There are no shackles in my beast
Not the first pack of sheets is already prick
The green cash desk is not important to us.
to stir up for hearing sweet and tasty
Planck Old Hip hap Place is perhaps here and the deputy
I do not need grandmas, I will die and die