Chorus:
Factories to workers, tribunes to fans,
Hugs - to moms ... Hardcore - to us !.
Here everyone is free, but the counter clicks,
And torn between the ribs ... Hardcore - you !.
D-Man 55:
Here the sickle and hammer harrowed the mainland.
Echo dry Sukhov and shelves full of books.
Where the endings were written by Karpov, Kramnik ...
There I am a baby (scream), there are our primers.
Lights and endless to the point of the highway.
And if there is no goal, then we will set it.
Our main match, lineup, Canada.
Hot punch, here I command the parade.
Above the kindergarten is a buzz, a jet train.
Running after him one at a time and carefree laughter.
Great potential and internal reserve.
A dense verse for all, perhaps the best safe.
Noah, Abraham and Moses are awaiting us,
And grandfather Dima, the apostle Peter, Paul, Seven,
Crackle, Elisha, sky, pool,
And also, with open, we are waiting for news.
Chorus:
Factories to workers, tribunes to fans,
Hugs - to moms ... Hardcore - to us !.
Here everyone is free, but the counter clicks,
And torn between the ribs ... Hardcore - you !.
Rustaveli:
Born under Brezhnev, I found the Olympics eighty.
The bear flew away into oblivion, like the country.
The secretaries-general at death brought our union to the abyss,
My pedal tractor rolled to where dark forests.
Bottle of Pepsi for four on a butterfly in a deserted courtyard.
They smoked tea in the bushes, and the bulls extinguished the fence.
School 2 through 7 and 8, first grade, new vice.
Multiplication table for a fierce turning point of eras.
Empire sunset, Spike on feet of clay.
Everyone became poor, everything in an instant and, somehow, in a hurry.
The country was dragged by uncles under the bottle and nishtyak,
And like water off a goose - heroes, they fucking, not enemies.
And here is youth, and with it the game of the nineties:
The power of lawlessness of the strong, where the weak must be cut and sheared.
Factories sold, default, heroin, Chechnya,
And quietly clicks the doomsday counter!
Chorus:
Factories to workers, tribunes to fans,
Hugs - to moms ... Hardcore - to us !.
Here everyone is free, but the counter clicks,
And torn between the ribs ... Hardcore - you !.
“Those who forget their past will have to repeat its mistakes ... Understand and remember!”, Rustaveli.