1000 Слов - Белизна
текст песни

I noticed, tired, because it was so darted, the trunk of the metal is all
And here is sudden silence, witnesses and foreman
And it seems like the story is completed
For those who are drunk from the wine
And for those who are not with us to the bottom
Pour more, there is still an excuse alone
For those who are late in the yard. White
From the May Sun
Then, maybe you still remember it there purely
Like a face of a neck
And those two as you dug, you remember how, remember how
There is only one life and we draw from the canvas, cold, white
From the May Sun
Then, maybe you still remember it there purely
Like a face of a neck
And those two as you dug, you remember how, remember how
Remember how, remember
Better forget about us, otherwise you will die by chance
Life is one, if you went to the wrong steppe
Do not return the respect
As if the paint from the canvas is not erased
We are like a rock of you
Lumpy, imperceptibly cut down
At the table, salam, lads
Remember how thoughts were enough for only 2 tacts
Stealing like a constant, cover with a whiteness from a clean sheet
The girl listens and distinguishes the right muzon from the left
Spring came, leave everything that was in the past
I get into the bombing about 6 in the morning
The sun shines in the eyes of the dead. To Ostankino to me
I raise my eyes again, I see a cop
Adequate like, did not accept
But my trace caught a cold
The lads will catch up with the heart
At the bridge I will feel in the astral or in paradise
I pour it means a glass, I devote to those who are roads,
For those whom I love, there is no longer a show
After juicy cones, I will moisten my throat
And slowly, I will retire in the shadow
In the country, the mother will pour borsch from the pan,
In the morning, money in the evening chairs
We are all like that, we are all blowing, muting, banchum,
Creating a life path, in fact
That's right, we can’t fix us, at least arrest
I'm sitting here at the studio, kind lyrics,
But if necessary, I will twist any pitching in a moment
These are not cheap show -offs, but a sincere scream
There were two of us, now multiply by 30
Scars from the knife remained in his hands
Pre -a -somnican, Davi for pity
And in me, to be honest, besides the void, nothing is left
Nothing left…
Positive at first glance, but appearance is deceiving
Closers are full of panchlaines with a bit of wagons (what? OO)
And the heavens cry. Better to kill than to be killed
Someone the victim, someone executioner
You need to be able to reason and give back
And I am chasing here, for now, good luck
On the ground floor I waited for me like half an hour of a wheelbarrow

Here in the Nike MC NOT
Not Harlem here, but Moscow, everyone does not sleep,
I stagger on my feet like stilts
as a herald on the hills 7th broadcast (Chetam)
What said with these cabbage
SWAO District promises a lot
With his sadness son
With the seal of business, not dreams (again to the Chetots)
Buying why you are not crying yet
Planeck, Kalka and a couple of girls without T -shirts
Coals this graffiti 5 times out of 5
Days a week came, but something Party was tormented
And how Tina praised what was easy and fifty dollars
To drink everything and live in a quiet way
Somewhere siren, spring is so-so lilac
Somewhere in the center we are fiercely going to the very bake
Your bright thoughts, baby
And we make dirt, and we are knitted not a cop, but a dawn

April weather for a stick fuck
Now they rest under the palm trees of suckers
You fell under the reports
Stereoparot like a dad of our party
Swiss account in the bank will end
And the royal salon will not seem very here anymore
The wine is not very, caviar is acquired on those
To whom the mouth was sculpted with tape
We’ll slip under the garbage,
Don't tell me about speed
Here the aunt Praskovya pours milk
Although I am urban, he yells the tape recorder for the whole forest
We took out life by brackets
On Tverskaya in traffic jam or in Melikhovo in the hole
What are you shallow?
I remember about it to the micro ruble
Coins, crowns, founters I give
I remember the bitches what they give.
Yah. Pistol among the boodplains,
Come on, turn on Sneppi
Enter the night for the night
At least you understand what problems you have now will begin
Pitching is waiting for the reason to swing
I'm small, but move like a cat, like saucers
Frisby. Waiting for wet pussy