Текст песни ШаолинЬ, ChipaChip, KoF - Лесенкой

We are high, if crazy, fight fast.
Strange, like the north of Koreya, your whole life is a lottery.
Play by the rules and everything about * you instantly.
Thoughts are mental; every word is a mystery to you.
You will not redeem my hidden text even under a magnifying glass.
Cards on the table your luck covered the room * sing.
A little rude and with a mat for you the most selected.
The dirty truth through the pipes, you can call me black.
There is a whole regiment of those who visited this slut.
It was considered a star at night, and woke up in the ditch in the morning.
Naked chick on ava, behind avat ueb * k.
Life flies behind the screen, your landfill on * side.
An honest pay policy is far from you.
My debate here with a monitor, a bit and a sunset.
A voiceover will indicate that you tried in vain.
If war we shoot, so that your area is afraid.
So many stairs, above each enticing banner.
I remembered a game from childhood, I was running like a Lud Runner.
That cushioned genre will become a pillar for many.
Let in the morning with a heavy robe.
The main thing is not to ambulance.

Kof:
We are a scaffold, rising under the pressure.
If this bluff is blowing and if you are, then kill yourself.
We've got fresh fruit from a squeezer.
While you were looking for return boomerangs, people became avid.
We were and will be punks in due time,
Dismantled their ranks in this war, fucking.
But the boys are not aging in time.
And keep their secrets, secrets, like an Indian flame.
And they probably drove along the road cars.
Like our days in life in the depths of the same system.
And will my walls hold out when the war breaks out?
When there is war, we will not be far from them.
Its time, its rules, its modes.
At that time, as you did right, you were drowning in lies.
It’s better fuck him fucking, than he fucking knows.
As a result, it takes its time.
For * balo, litter for mat, but eb * lo in Latin.
Indulge in the little one, raise the sail, sail to the harbor.
They will meet there, there you will see something.
Your question will always be answered "there."

Chipachip:
All run to the new discarded forest.
And here we are writing songs do not need to climb, sons.
You are unlikely to see us, we are in this as in the yellow sand son King.
So the best secrets, went into space without wearing backpacks.
Erase the soles of it,
This is where you get into the urn.
The years are flying away that they burned so violently.
An unbroken laugh out the window, from the smoke of a serpent.
Then it is unlikely to succeed in driving the barrage out of your smoke.
I wake up from the ringing alarm.
Winter in the kitchen gas background.
For * what I remembered.
I go out discontented, but not far from a coma.
There’s a combo for everyone, if there’s a voice in the morning.
Again gray shabby houses, this fog and marches hug.
Here you have to breathe for a long time through cheesecloth.
Kalik Voronezh not Detroit and not Harlem.
But you are in a hurry, in a mike a gundos dwarf.