But we have in the area, all as usually,
One hundred kilometers through the city
A basin of the black cat,
Inside all the same faces.
Go out and райончику, slowly,
Prior to his entrance and a friend floor.
Again write about something
As in white is black.
Plus do tightly,
That would bore clearly in columns.
First I have to place in the вкатит
This stuff for areas on this map.
And so it should be so.
If these three men, often playing on repeat,
In your monitor is worth something.
Moscow does not believe in tears, and rightly so.
Making it stronger in the city roads,
The huckster, wheels and паравозов,thugs,
The great hopes and передозов.
Do you want to change something,
But in the course of late.
It changes you,if you don't understand,
In this clip there are no blank cartridges.
While rocking the areas within the garden,
And outside it have long been familiar ,child's swing
The clean love.
Remember, Moscow moves in a circle
Killing weekdays .
Let's заруливай don't think
Here is something to see ordinary spectator.
And surprise, if you're willing to receive.
Great works equals big money.
Someone shoots the foam.
Street in Vienna, and we-the blood,
Which of them runs.
These floors . It is our life.
All in what you believe in,
You will receive the full.
In that play seriously,
Until the end of the let them play with you.
With my people
And we have a whole group.
As a special beautiful ceremony,
The knife can kill,
And can bring profit.
Without the owner has
Do not make a choice.
The money that respect the guy as the boss
And do everything quickly,
Without any unnecessary questions.
Saint P hides the secrets of the night and Yu and day.
Cut the meat and burned with fire.
See how quickly I entered into thy house.
Get my dose of right now and even then.
The streets are traded snow which does not melt.
Someone punches and get out,
That shakes in the machine.
Great джоинт under the hood.
I'm back at home, in the center,
In the early morning sleep provision.
This is my stone block, this is my micro,
This is my awesome stuff, hungry dog.
One love, like a finger, which lay down on the trigger
And something fell like a heavy bag.
..... these muddy weekdays and these learned to dread routes.
four, nine, five. Eight, one, two.
Sometimes, I dream in the evening,
Closing his eyes.
I know how to fly over the houses,
Over the streets and courtyards.
People airplanes fly,
Ride the trains.
In wheelbarrows squeeze the pedal
But for me any distance
Between the cities is not a barrier.
Well, it's телепортатор.
It is nice to observe
From the height of avian flight,
As from point A to point B,
Just a bundle
Under a seat at the conductor
The red arrows.
From St. Petersburg to Moscow.
From the North capital
To the square of three railway stations.
Here will meet you guys.
They will always be small.
And you think someone is going to stop him?
Who will cut off
Such a serious traffic ?
For many years already
And everybody is happy:
And Muscovites and Larissa,
The Kremlin and the Smolny.
We взрываем chic джоинт
On the Moscow river,
Guys make bold напас
Somewhere on the Neva river.
The idols of clay collapse of the iron hands.
Tamara Konstantinovna in the course,
He sings about her grandson.
Here Slim, Smokey Mo and I am called Guf.
We make the sound: Moscow-Saint-Petersburg.
...these thoughts in your draft, Peter on the banks of the Neva, Moscow on the Moscow river.
...Surrounded by 7 skyscrapers, 9 railway stations, was the beginning....
...With my cats, I am not alone, if what you " think clearly.
Исполнитель переведенной песни: Centr ft. Smoki Mo
Название переведенной песни: Trafik
Добавил: Пользователь Centr ft. Smoki Mo