Lyrics Скороговорка - РеперЗа5Минут

He writes too many people with a pomp, a comp language, he doesn’t crumple this pomp, releases albums to me anyway, who sits quietly in a catacomb for half a year, who stores opium in a trench, a broken bit fences, not copies, home-grown dope, not fancy a top hit in the field, which was drunk, besides the twin cities turned around backwards, while in introtile he presented his style effortlessly, pictured how the silo fermented, reborn, traced life to gray hair, shed a tear, I'll take an old stylet in old age , along the way of the paladin I will pass the race all this almost sur, toss the beads in front of the pigs? - yes, everything failed, every third century passes under the sign of a conflict of worlds, pray, yo, vetal and myth burst into business together, you catch the battle from the innovators, and the drop of water that you poured today could save your life tomorrow, yes, open your eyes, life moves back to the feudal system, long-range system, a thunderstorm over three, Cassandra’s prediction is on sale in the bazaar, times are strange, vague, wanderers, satellites confuse countries on the big road in space, they wander around the obscure, as if they were paid for this work, with screens on weekdays grannies are indignant, ghouls roam the outskirts, smoke rubbish so bad that the hens die, sometimes a shot comes from a farm - that’s life in real life, but at the same time time flows in another dimension, behind ancient rails, burned boiler rooms, in coppices, where wolves and bears, at old shooting ranges, Khrushchevs, slums, still in fir-tree huts, abandoned beaches where you lie down and don’t feel earthly friction, burden, time, human tribe, but only the process of burning underground peat - torn from the world, in sand pits, half-people spit on equal careers, half-animals on their territory are sitting in front of monitors, stealing other people's tunes, putting everything and everything according to their methods, driving vodaru, avoiding symposiums, waving mind , they immediately live in winter, weave homonyms for the linguistic sumo, "they are the dregs of civilization", "just neurosis, not mature, shame of the nation", are they rubbish? - but why their horizons are wide, and yours is a pass between paragraphs, check out our tsunami, nowhere to go, stocks are rising in price the administration is koumeka "Who are these who are engaged in trepanation of the new century?" the vetal maniac and mythody burn from the guns, you are a parody of us rolling down the mound, we are the heroes of verbiage ...