Текст песни SWEET LIFE - Мысли в слух

News, from the same plane, at the end of two X's
Stone on the stone will not remain
I want you to understand
I'm in hip-hop like Figo in football
It’s time for me to retire, and I'm still torn on the field
Moreover, intends to play based
And let them score just one goal,
I want to be remembered
Slim, you hear, I'll ask
Raise the bar a couple centimeters higher, otherwise I'm in a hurry
I have a mode, at night I write about what I see,
And in the afternoon I am looking for some new smoke.

Below, catch ordinary thoughts out loud
Slimus - minus, CAO - sound, words - Guf
The role of the ex, at the end of the two X
Armor, seven high-rises and three rings
The trams have already gone, and the three of us were all sitting on the roof
I and two boxing cones
On this building, in the area no higher
The eyes look into the distance, the hand writes something
Mood chosen vigorously, good plus
The burgundy season for my city
Favorite time, five in the morning
A place in the sky to the sun slowly gives way to the moon
With a notebook, favorite pen
Player, voice recorder, two lighters just in case
These thoughts are in draft, Peter on the Neva
Rostov on Don, Moscow on the Moscow River

This is just news, without too much harshness.
At the end of the two X's, do not get under the blades
From a sock I get a modest handful of speed for cheerfulness
This is just news, this is just news.
From one high plane, Moscow central area
Thoughts aloud - mine, Slimus - minus, plus Gough, catch

By the way, I got here not with a simple
Not just like that, I spent half an hour with this door in the attic
In the area at night someone with an invisible hand
Moves the tents from place to place, to figure out who
Just kidding, by the way, because of this fucking construction
My house can go underground,
But thoughtful pot-bellied customers, their mother
They paid exactly as much as they had to pay
In the next doorway assassination
Too curious journalist neighbor
They spit clean, that there are floating layers of soil
Gasterbathers are still building so fast, bastards
And chicks down there, smart, drunk
Stopudov from the club, factories or Gaban
And I sit high, I look away
Monkeys come up to me, I'll give you a ganjik
Napas Donkey, I see Kolya the janitor below, I swish
It was he who broke through the roof access.
I see a neighbor who hates me
And I accordingly hate her too
For some reason, she gets stuck in the elevator every day.
Wait I'll go throw something into her

This is just news, without too much harshness.
At the end of the two X's, do not get under the blades
From a sock I get a modest handful of speed for cheerfulness
This is just news, this is just news.
From one high plane, Moscow central area
Thoughts aloud - mine, Slimus - minus, plus Gough, catch

Forgive me but i love to smoke one
From the heart, without haste, sat down
Healed, blew up, filled up, healed
I am soaked up, healed
You can ponika, Tipo this, you can better
To put ears on the first napas
Well, or in a pinch, you can then the marakesh
From which from the point darkens in the eyes
I still love Moscow on Sunday morning
Peaceful, quiet, deserted, not like on weekdays
There is my friend, worth about Patio pizza
Immediately after school, he went to work at the police
From here without binoculars can be seen from afar
Recently acquired rubbish features
Meanwhile, there are no passersby on the street.
My beloved Union-Print has a weekend too

This is just news, without too much harshness.
At the end of the two X's, do not get under the blades
From a sock I get a modest handful of speed for cheerfulness
This is just news, this is just news.
From one high plane, Moscow central area
Thoughts aloud - mine, Slimus - minus, plus Gough, catch