Текст песни Каспийский Груз ft Centr - Гудини

Time flies between the station lights
And we will appear and disappear somewhere again.
And the lyre of lanes, heliks and kruzaks.
To the tops of the tops stomped from the bottom of the swamp.
While someone is enraged by the timbre of our voices.
We are pirated like Microsoft products.
All these groups are as tired as a pair of white sneakers.
Rapper from gony and ... no stopudova.
You do dirt, we hits like cool.
Someone will be washed out of here, like dirt from a windshield.
Here gravity is a desire for money.
Everything will be fucking, for sure.
I have been authorized on this web for a long time,
Like Harry Houdini, and tricks in underpants.
And here is a special trick - a double charge.
CENTR and Caspian Cargo - Green Theater.

We are all leaves of the same branch.
All the same children from the school crown.
We don't throw the back when they aim at us.
We guess whether he is accurate or not.
Hello, hey, let's meet at Crocus.
And better without tricks.
Not if you like magic tricks, then patience.
We'll show you the fade trick.
Call yourself Harry Houdini when you're cut in the middle.
And if you can't get it together.
Call yourself fucking Houdini.
And we need five microphones.
For people to gather on July 3.
This theater will be green and it won't be greener.

What the fuck Houdini, Houdini didn't take on the tusk from the boys.
And you've been saving up half your life for Ford, what's the trick, huh?
Woke up he is not there, what is not a trick, eh?
I later go to heaven, I go to God myself.
A lifeguard for himself, not Osam himself.
Bin Laden, oh, bleat, come on, come on.
Not the first time such negligence from those in robes.
Stamped somehow not neatly.
Hello, did you order life? Home delivery to you?
They will arrive late, at the wrong time, and you are not happy.
Because the example is life, but life is fucking marriage.

This is the city, my city from Luce B.
Years run in traffic jams, advertising is dazzling.
Dries up from exhaust, smells like vagrants.
You are with ducks, it puts pressure on the ego, pisses me off with habits
Pipes everywhere are dripping with cooking.
And rudely, so stupidly hamlo at every corner.
This is how the world sees Moscow, but in essence everything is different.
People live here, creatures are mostly people.
They laugh, cry there is no other way.
We breathe, we see, the rest is nothing.
There are churches here, but I don't go there.
Temples are collecting rent from faith.
They pray to Allah for meek, avoiding the Koran,
Mothers are walking, a caravan is moving forward.
Dogs bark, but strap on to dogs.
The sun falls on new soot 2-2-2.
Check it out, smoke is flying, hands in glue,
Guys hang a banner on it for warm July.
The third shadow, year 2015, here is CENTR, Caspian.
There is a reason to get together.

To stir me up.
Needs a nefig shake.
At least something like that winter story with Krasnoyarsk.
I haven't really moved on rap lately.
He solved his problems and released only a joint one with Rigos.
I was silent for a couple of years, a calm five could be silent.
I treat Russian rap the same way I treat the water sex.
Without wiping my white sneakers, I jump into the black car.
You only know how ridiculous your whole office looks.
I am here representing a city that must put things in order.
And very soon I invite you all to visit the Green Theater.
CENTR and Caspian Cargo on seven hills.
We will be with the boys plus a huge crowd,
After all, everything had to turn out differently for me.
Would live right now in China, would have nailed normal grandmother.
But this rapper brings good luck when he pumps from passing cars.

It's inconceivable - it's as simple as day.
The sun will go down, the day will fall on the asphalt.
Music, we need goodness, punchy and rap turns, words.
Smoke and grass, smoke and grass, smoke, smoke, smoke and grass.
Smoke and firewood.