Текст песни Эдгар - Бич

Oxxxymiron: Don, whether Volga flows, cat on shoulder Shoulder pain - there is a secret, opened with a lock, not a key How many more miles, a short flight was not counted Long dusty scab, van filled with boxes with merchants We believe - lucky, our beds are portable To the minstrel, there are two ways - corporate or apartment. The schemes are of the same type, everything is MC now. After giving birth to a change, we have reached a paradigm shift here Now rap is multi-party, it’s spawning battles I look in the mirror like: “How many troubles have you done!” I would enslave the whole rap, but the whole time on the road The industry has a nervous tick, valocordin, angina pit Collect the court, but the winners are not judged We are the first Cro-Magnons, we got out into the people Don’t fuck me, I put five times on you, man, We play hard, it’s like a jaw of a pithecanthropus Chorus: My rap, in short, for how many years a city under the soles has been uphill, then downhill when it’s sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still the city under the soles The city is under the soles, the city is under the soles Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is in the mainsail or to the bottom. You live under the heel, I have a city under the soles of the Second Verse: Past the poplars and ripe bread of the fields, Where there is a cross prayer in Yesenin’s cast, I see the earth from the minivan, I see the sky above it, We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not Aquarius. Our Earth drowns loners like puppies It was a stranger, but OHRA, spoilage, Ilya more than a family composed a bomb at night, started everything from urine I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me The world is empty, even though I get to know every second I’m not a biorobot with a positive Hey, save me from your panacea, home paracels After all, for me to erase the end in itself, I got tired of it, Tony Stark, as a standard a couple of countries, freeways, Krasnodar, Tatarstan Moscow, you need passports, we need pop music at least on the Moscow Ring Road to start, at least for Madagascar, you know, the whole Chorus: My rap, in short, about how many years a city under the soles has been uphill, then downhill when it’s sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still the city under the soles The city under the soles, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is in the mainsail or to the bottom. You live under the heel, I have a city under the soles. Third Verse: Give me a little strength here, don’t collapse or break down There are routes, there is a settlement on the highway And there they are waiting for us today, do not be a whiner. Ruslans have soundtracks for the journey in the deck. It’s sleepy again, the light has risen again. The bronik is back, the road is again, the bag is behind your back. Everything is quick, if it’s shit, rain, cloudy. The bridge to Azgard is lucky with transport I make each of my verses a self-portrait Often we check rap, like a speech therapist under a marafet Stencil on parapets, a logo on the wall everywhere My teaching to everyone like a magomed with a buffet I wouldn’t go into intelligence with him. I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test. Chorus: My rap, if it is short about the fact that for a year there is a city under the sole Uphill when it rushes, then downhill when it makes me sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still the city under the sole The city is under the sole, the city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties , fees and customs I don’t know in the mainsail or to the bottom this path You live under the heel, I have a city under the soles of Ocher: What did you see behind my smile? Three years, as on the road, but we are not snails With a trace of peace, christening - commemoration Paleolithic principle: a million in your gate I do not appreciate the excuses of scoundrels But is it really important whose face is under this mask? For the time being we are driving away ?? And we are being taken to sleep by this shaking spring of Ocher - no matter what it means to you, the Author minus words, a dead nag and ballast Unpaid balance How to spend the night ??? And then the failure is not about us. It just barely imparts to us the need. We assemble the city in bricks, like Tetris. The track, sticky, like an adhesive tape. Even if I’m tired, fucking, imperceptibly behind the mask