Текст песни Es Kew - кості

you're not in that direction crawling a mile, crying!
I'm a style artist, see?
so thick a ceiling, and you're like a sprayer,
sharpen your ears I'll torture you,
I will silence like cereals at once and feed the chickens,

I know across the throat, you are almost no pelicans,
i would have thrown it, but i have fat fans,
I tear your brains out - along and along the seams,
spread the mud of the streets like a sole,

after each composition you are in pain, son,
when I read the verse always there are sleeves nearby,
I wander through my own stars through thorns and smoke,
but in the bowels of the mind there are many reserve rhymes,

I got everything, but did not lose,
further so fast as to swallow nitrates,
we have every dialogue as a barter of mines,
tongue twisted in a fight like a butterfly,

and another MC over-inhaled helium,
the apophegmis take the cubes in the center of the citadel
even back in the future I would step in as Marty,
I am fascinated, and therefore every Holmes is Moriarty,

we will not share the hosting space,
it is useless to rush from anger of bone,
scratches the nape of the neck like a scab, because
still give one of us a retail bone