Текст песни ChipaChip, Kof feat. Шаолинь - Лесенкой

We are on the buzz, if they are furious, beat soon.
Strange, like the north of Korea, your whole life is a lottery.
Play according to the rules and all about*you're running instantly.
Thoughts are mental, every word for you is a secret.
You will not buy my hidden text even under a magnifying glass.
The cards on the table your luck covered the hall*Sing.
A little rude and with obscenities for you the most selected.
The dirty truth in 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 in the morning I woke up in a ditch.
Naked chick on Ava, behind the avatar ue*approx.
Life flies behind the screen, your landfill on*side.
From you distant policy of an honest salary.
My debates here with a monitor, bat and sunset.
The voice behind the scenes will note that you tried in vain.
If the war we will shoot, so that your area is afraid.
There are so many stairs, over each tempting banner.
I remembered the game from childhood, I am running like Lud Runner.
That hungry genre will become a support for many.
Let in the mornings with a heavy robe. The main thing is not on an ambulance.

We are a ladder, rising under pressure.
Enrages all this bluff and enrage if you, then kill yourself.
We have a fresh fruit from squeezing here.
While you were looking for a boomerang return, people have become fallen.
We were and will be punk at one time,
They dismantled their ranks in this war, fucking.
And the boys are not old not in time.
And they keep their secrets, secrets, like an Indian tribe.
And the car left along the road, probably.
Like our days in life in the depths of the same system.
And whether my walls will withstand when the war.
When there is a war, we will not be the same.
Its time, its own rules, its own modes.
While you, making it right, drowned in a lie.
Better yes, well, his nah*th than the x*th knows him.
As a result, this time takes his own.
For*Balo, sori for mat, but e*alo in Latin.
Baluya with a small one, raise the sail, swim in the harbor.
They will meet there, there you are shining.
You will always answer your question "there."

Everyone runs to the new thrown ladder.
And here we write songs do not climb, sons.
We are unlikely to see us, we are in this like in yellow sand the son of King.
So it’s better than the sex, they went into space, not wearing backpacks.
Erased the sole to him,
This is where you will go into the urn.
Years fly away that they burned so violently.
Carelessly cheerful laughter out the window, from the smoke of snakes.
Then it is unlikely that it will be possible to expel a flurry of betrayal from your smoke.
I wake up from the alarm clock.
Winter, in the kitchen gas in the background.
For*beat, what I remembered.
I leave the displeased, but far from from a coma.
Everything seems to have a combo if there is a voice in the morning.
Again, gray worn houses, this fog and marches are hugging.
Here you need to breathe for a long time through gauze.
Kalik Voronezh is not a detroite and not Harlem.
But you rush events in Mike Gunding dwarf.