Текст песни ммф. - слава гроверам

my thoughts are my horses, abts are doher's songs,
pulls a duck - "na, maestro, kurni" - gerla,
crawling with a snail from ferrous metal. I live in the rear of henchmen with stripes. - "What do you want, cop, eh?"
sixteen-line vyser - just not rushing,
Granny said he would be evicted for the cannabis connection.
Babylon, so it happened in the eternal fire.
babylon blessed - "kill the world with buckwheat, ahmed"
it is rois, and how can I go to her?
the alcoholic chooses in the "ray" of the blame - he drank himself to death.
I shriveled and in line with karma,
I dissolve ignorance and do not seek meaning.
took root in Bryansk and rose above "I"
and fucked up. so and who wrote everything
"butterflies", "squirrels", everything is still hooked on the maple
"three times poor" like. Not a cake anymore. Zhenya Monty got drunk.
yes, I was a fucking lyricist
but right now, "oh fuck, I almost threw my hooves off the motion and would-be mares"
yes, these are not the songs, not for those people
but the world is not without good - I pour into the net what was in the mica.
yes, homeland. we are rednecks and morons.
what the fuck are books? on, maybe those beer?
one life, fuck shit,
eat the parcels with the scale advertisement.
ravine on ravine, not paradise
and maybe I would be glad to open myself under the "night movers"
at night, but I piss and schmuck and just love my mom.
I brought a cube - I sculpt points. I watch a film from a scorsese.
how good it is to be alone, I almost forgot, sorry, my cat Caesar,
I'll feed it. Here he is a "public" with a "questionnaire" - the hatch rose, whore,
By the way, you are a pop dog, if you have not been at the yuda
ahuyenny turnover of speech - how fucking live when you expect "nothing".
after the "Bryanskoorlovsky" it became quite funny,
"oh, he does not burn his own fucking, he is a Baltic baban"
morning. nescafe a couple of spoons.
I'm really glad that ex-marblefam summed up abts.
Someone Daria Kissel threatens "vandalism" to solder
and we are hiding from the fskn in the fields. How so? unclear.
Andrew called from Penza - right now he tramples boots,
and I sing with a weight from abc on a cue ball.
after a lull, no one calls us anymore,
unless we drop into Obninsk at the end of the summer - it's swept away.
karlov thistle is a welcome guest,
and Roma Shift is a cocksucker, not a foot to him
dima prospect s ivanovo several years with us
and what he found in this music, I don't know.
fuck the seryoga rivet bits?
but the bitch write "well, where is the album?" - ashamed, but the kepar hung up.
yes, and they need it, and who to believe right now. end.fuck sergey klenichev

the forest rustled harshly and the grass grew
the airplane was buzzing with a summer lamp.
does not care about everyday life. you are not like that - it seemed.
I'll write on the fence - glory to the growers!