Papa Rapa - ПСР БПД
текст песни

The guys from the neighborhood are drinking to Dorn (drinking to Dorn)
A Bugatti and an Opel, a Ducati and a Honda are parked nearby
Maseratis and horses
Everyone's drinking, even though they're working different jobs
Deputies, their whores and guests, icons in these dirty swamps
Time flies and won't come back (will never come back)
But we dance until we go into a coma
The guys aren't shy in the sun anymore
Drinking to Dorn, they're from the neighborhood, it's their little island (island)
Style so high it reaches into space (space)
Walking through the field with a machete under the huge sky
Even though it's already night
They're drinking to Vladi, but they're walking under God, but that's not certain
They're understanding the subtleties
While the world is being torn to shreds
Kills himself with a bong, washes himself in blood
In the morning, it's like he's lying in a sewer (in the sewer)
You know, guys get drunk listening to Dorn
Dorn doesn't get drunk, that's right too
A kid comes out with a microphone
But the sky doesn't hear—that's right, oh God
Time flies (time flies), the stars grin above
But the guys get drunk, forgetting the past
Wiping it away, like tears, e
Wiping it away, like tears
The guys from the hood get drunk listening to Dorn, over and over again
The world around, like a child on a sled, quickly sliding down a hill
The planet is fucked (yes), we need another one, I guess
But the end of the world is no more frightening (than?) than bad weather
The guys from the hood get drunk listening to Dorn (wet descends)
The tired sun barely shines on them (through the shaggy mountains)
A guy on a yellow vest pushes a rokla doomedly
Thunder in the clouds, like God, laughing, enthusiastically playing with a globe
Sometimes life is just A crouton and vodka
The guys jumped into a Honda, racing down Shchorsa, a safari for chicks
But now the situation is clearly and definitely a little different
An irregularly shaped cunt creeps languidly along the horizon
Nature wanders in circles along the edge of the Earth for a long time
An elephant smoothly drags our flat sphere toward the abyss
And he basically doesn't give a shit (doesn't give a shit) that we're inconvenienced (doesn't give a shit) somewhere out there
The turtle is making fun of him, apparently biting his trunk
And once upon a time, kind Stalin tickles the air with his mustache
He says, oh, what nature, let them build a pile and a house here
And there's a big excavator belching concrete in the field
And next to him, a common man, happy as a slave to work, well, heaven and all
And then the deputies came, like big Atlanteans and gods
They stole a little, hanging out beautifully, as if in Kadorra's front door
And what's left for the guys? (What?)
Yeah, like this: Macallan, McCoffee
Getting a hundred likes from an album (not bad)
A hundred bucks from streams in a year (no more)
Kids from the hood are drinking to Dorn (very shy)
A slice of pizza is sliding down the hood (probably pepperoni)
He wants to get away from this hellish drinking binge (get a car, please, urgently)
But they notice him (who? Who notices him?) Zhekan and Pakora
Stytsamen remix by the chorus of old prophets
Tears the soul no worse than grunge or garage rock
The February wind has crawled under the down jacket and T-shirt
In fear, what if someone presses the red button