IETI habits in me, while the folders are on the grandmothers
Rich children, children, because they are unfamiliar to the word poor
Half of the balabols in the polo fell fucked at half the time to get them away, hey
The wildest white, straight from Siberia
I am from the periphery, there will be no truce, they call me Kiri
I will present a poor area, fucking 124
This is a white ghetto, my voice says I have to do Battle, I'm talking about it
My poverty Battle, work Battle, drug, Mark, Alco, Talka - Battle, hey
I do not bother the money in a shotgun, but the dough is cut off
I'm from sad places, but the salary of laughter does not try to sin, the goal of going up (up, up, up)
Not so long ago I earned as best he could
I went to the factory it was a bottom (bottom, bottom)
My truth is a wooden house, Moveton, a clearly drunk tone, where the bottom is poor (bottom, bottom)
Life for bit - bit killed
My sink - they were able to sink
I don't know the sonata of simple chords
But I rise from the bottom like Costa Concordia
You need to fuck a lie in a folding for free, for the sake of the herd
In order to be fucked, far from piz
For sales backwards, places there have long been divided, hey
You are glad to sell, let's find yourself a nosy producer, he’s sitting down on a dick - then in Cadillac
You turned the battles into Comedy Club
Dima is not alone - he is again with the crowd
They say I have to go home
But, this is the gram hut I am here the brownie
And we all score a bitch oh, oh, oh
