Oxxxy - биполярочка
текст песни

Again fucks the brains of the press, chills and jetlag
Put in your ass Baig and questions, Sherlock
Give the rap part of itself like Tosin Gentu
And Kosim Kash, without wiping tears, was drawn on the tombstone for the year

We ask in vain: give us all here not just overnight
And that the nomad, so waits the light of the grunt
We are those who are sacrificed to the onlooks here
Those who carry the ring on the neck and throw them into the pole

And what in return? Friend, what in return?
That folk love is bitter bread - a banter on the show evening

Where can you go when the check will not save, like a healing juice?

"Ox, what are you under?
You have everything that the underground rapper
You have increased from the mob, instead of calmly rejoice at the takeoff -
Inviting the deplorable text, you are Chekni, how we live,
You probably don't live with you at all
We have alcohol cheaper than a textbook.
So if you whine you, like a chandler

This is more than you, more than
Your self -digging of a worthless clown, you are
Remember, you and I keep up to a hundred years
Side by side for a hundred years walked along the road to the dream

If God is to the final than to lie on the bottom
For another couple of years, better off this crap walked
"Hey, Zhid, you are not eternal hike
Well, get together! Why are you so gentle? "

Really yours, but you are a campaign
The conclusions themselves made the conclusions from it, the boys, the boys,
I lost myself in a year and a half.
Friends: Two are dead, the third in intensive care.

Each of my step under a microscope
And Real Talk, if you have at least once blur, everything
I was waiting for a year to give the throne
Monomakh hat is heavy, I tired of everyone to fuck in my mouth

Age when you start
And you just catch everything out of the air, Bypass on adults.
Remember? My house was a drifting island
From property only future helium and air

Nothing to write - "oxy, grow hair"
For three years, I completely bald in the media
And I would like to leave, but I have friends
Do not give scraps of honor, but conscience

And from the oral cavity
It would be a new verse and to floo-plastide
Like pop artists, but still MS
Big Boss, CEO that feeds Team

Kind son, his own type in the board
Oxford graduate, all before the pussy
You are over the abyss in rye, over the abyss of the rugs
On the hand of Crowley the motto: "God will forgive"

MS are friends against, circle-bars
Already dance around my carcass drive
But I, the corpse of alive, strangles me to the flesh
If you are jamming me, I will tear my tummy

So Leisya Song Gypsy
It became unclear what, there was a schoolchlar in glasses
But I don't burn fucking, I started
After all, my bipolar loves me