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текст песни

When the moon is already hanging, we wear our outfit:
Martins and bright camouflage shoes,
The back of my hand, a bottle of vodka in a backpack,
And my belt weighs like a patronage ...
Again, local bulls are shaken by their pupils -
They are strained by our laid back,
And we walk past them without looking around for a moment -
We have nothing to empty conflict!

My friends are thumping Jin, a friend loves F.P.G. -
Under their muzon we always have excellent sex!
And recently left me - a fucking pussy,
It has infuriated my new text.
And our group is a drunk choir, in general a separate conversation:
A real psycho sits behind the drums,
Inappropriate bassist, inadequate guitarist ...
And ask me about them!

But after Sinki in the late evening on the platoon, who is from a hangover -green
Yes, only pockets of beer, vodka, sometimes marijuana
In the morning I weakly remember who you are - I barely return home

Oi oi

We have a mat in my country house, then I have a pound
Doors for acquaintances and friends are open
then I have everything to get drunk with Vano -in shit
And go in search of whores
And our group is a drunk choir, in general a separate conversation
A real psycho sits behind the drums
Inaccurate bassist, non -vesting guitarist
And ask me about them

But after Sinki in the late evening on the platoon, who is from a hangover -green
Yes, only pockets of beer, vodka, sometimes marijuana
In the morning I weakly remember who you are - I barely return home