To all my brothers, to all my friends whom I love, whom I will not betray I dedicate a song, but it’s even a verse To remember, even though I’m quiet To all my brothers, to all my kents whom I love, whom I will not betray I dedicate a song, but this is even a verse What would you remember, even though I calmed down And we are children of abandoned streets And we are children of abandoned houses And on these side streets to a dick with a bullet And the same to a dick, athletes and thieves With some Kent I spent my childhood With others, I was in a complete ass And those and others, still with me Whatever tsunami we were covered And we were covered correctly, in the old debris And some of the tramps, pashol on the righteous path No longer swears, does not smoke, does not stagger Well, right, I will also give up it seems My support, my support My kents will be riot police, and every brother, after all, you will not name them Time will determine where the truth is and where the boxes are And I raised my glass, but it's already empty For your health, for those who are sad For friends, brothers and sisters For girlfriends, and even for the trash Thanks to your mothers, for what brought up Such friends who did not betray With whom I fumbled beyond my pockets And in the district, and gave flowers to the ladies Yes, mothers, as the vidish matured Interests are not the same for a long time And in appearance I have grown old in my soul And already protocols instead of grammar.
