Текст песни ТГК - Свободный Стиль

Vibe:
We emerge from the dark
Where age-old ice is,
White smoke poured thickly.
My clan is ninja mercenaries
No receivers
Don't take this wave.
My boys are for free style
Sons and fathers
No DJ in this mix can make ends meet.
We're not here to carry a message
But rather draw your monastery,
So much so that overlooking the bridges.
The clock is ticking, the glare from the braid falls on it,
Space was freed up, new tenants moved in.
Щ-Ц, we transmit the frequency coordinates,
Two-zero-one-three ti-hi-si Em C.
I am for beautiful handwriting, for a green forest,
Twice for Chelyabinsk and for a silver Mercedes,
For more warm places beyond the Arctic Circle,
After all, our people are there, there are also here.

Here's our version of the track of the year,
For Chelyaba gold, we go deep under the water.
What's the weather like in rap right now?
What's fashionable there?
Louis Vuitton or Adidas Discount Discount?
With a show off, impromptu
My gang hop on your speakers
We reached out on the hands of the discs with the THC hieroglyph,
The system works seven days a week while we are on vacation.
Appearing as a white cloud
Low frequencies far outside the room.
From the darkness, streams of smoke dance on the walls
At the end by drawing a bold comma.

Jamal:
The city is gloomy, capes are a diamond,
Thunder breaks half asleep.
Whale for rap in a thousand
People arrive from all directions
Zdarov, a flock of crows are circling over the yard,
A man with an ax goes about his business,
Observes with interest and unhealthy
Under the cover of the crowns and under the crimson sunset,
With a fucking shade on walls and fences.
On microphones a Chelyabinsk school with a hip-hop bias.
I want you to know
Good start to the day, the speakers are pounding with us
Play hormone, hydroponic test,
I inhale greedily according to all the canons of the genre
On the balcony of a house, or between the carriages,
Calmly, without baboons, without crime, exactly,
Mouzon with a telephone,
By terminals, yes by pyrons,
In remote regions
Who should we vote for?
So that our future is not shitty.
Well, why are there millions in our sales?
Or should I still eat a burnt Big Bon?
For my French sorry
You brother, stay a puff cake
In a densely populated area.
While still green
Don't get salty
Deer half-bent, half asleep
Ghost, watch your time.

Ingush (Mikha):
This story takes its roots from the sidelines
There, where once the opera fell wet,
Where the fender of the car is sealed with tape
Where a kid in the top ten thought he would definitely slip by,
Where dinner is for lunch, and where the cop eats meth,
Where the tramp breathes a moment and muddies coins,
I'm straight from the center of this juicy city
Here your cheap show-off will not be appreciated dearly.
Karaganda is not Vologda, I fuck at home,
So that you, my friend, check out how the thunder will sound.
From this Ol Ji kush (??) came a coma,
How high I am with this hydropon
Hey boy, why are you standing on the sidelines so modestly?
Pull up to us in the spot, because it is so huge!
You have nothing to say here? Take my word.
Don't die my spiritual base.
My fat woman did not become familiar here in these parts,
And I did not quote Leo Tolstoy in your house.
I remembered a series of words from a large volume,
After all, what you believe in is very ponto.

Puzo: Puzo:
That coat, write it down already,
Taekwondo didn’t study, but
The sounds of the beats are just that for me.
I stand by the micro, 3D glasses, then the coat,
The time has come to write it down already.
Taekwondo didn’t study, but