Текст песни Гагарин ft. Каспийский Груз - Адвайта

I am a regular in this movement.
Until the bitch with the scythe came.
I see those who could not stand it and squeezed like a lemon.
They fully need more doubts.
I go to the touch at night so calm.
After all, the main thing is not to fly off like a cigarette butt from the balcony.
There are lots of hungry people who will remember you,
While you are sinking, few people need them, and you too, it’s even better.
If something goes wrong friend - then you will be eaten for dinner without further ado.
The main thing - life cuts like a blender.
I need rap branding, hardly, I just need time.
We trample mud to find the right doors.
Do not believe, check!

Take off like Yuri Gagarin.
Like Yura G!
Our life is weightlessness and bends.
I thought that I was flying by choosing my direction.
But I'm flying in free fall.
And our path is clear, sharpen the hair and be in the meat.
Here they’ll whip immediately who is balamut, who is fornication in a cassock.
Here they walk under God, smoke and bass.
And our route leads us to Alcatraz.
We live in a big way but with a pocket kuttsy.
Then the blown Yakut consider yourself a Yakuza.
This is rushing like staf Jesse Pinkman and Walter White.
Caspian and Advaita.

Chorus (2x):
Take off like Yuri Gagarin.
I cut the light, change to the far.
I don’t know what’s in the final, the flight is normal.

Everything is predictable, like any scene in a bad movie.
Changes the incentive to move to the top, while equally divided arms and legs.
Hundreds of people say something behind me.
They will make a little noise, letting ink out like an octopus.
Here, in order not to fall and not stall, you just have to think with your head.
And if you insert, then do not doubt what.
We fly above panoramic windows and molten roofs.
And everything around will change while you sleep.
Fate will crush with a multi-ton trailer.
And either thirteen pilibs in the crosspiece of the sight.
What's the matter? Late to escape from the ship, like a rat.
When the parachute did not open.

Enough for us to soar, master, we will not become cleaner.
Children of crime reports, paper publications.
And it’s better not to wake the pack, I do not smoke fucking in the plan.
In the plan, if we all get up - n * zda to you (n * zdam to them).
A little under a little stomp, amused and fucking in a coffin.
Try to wipe this wide smile from your face.
And if in a strict form they will ask questions.
I’ll collect water in my mouth, up to as much as an elephant, fucking, in the trunk.
Rot your line until it is bent.
While you feel the beat of the pulse with your finger.
And in search of a beautiful life wandering barefoot.
After all, to find a beautiful life, like a second sock.

Chorus (2x)

Even when we say on the street - "we are in the building."
Smoke in the ceiling, thoughts enveloped.
Here, to become a passenger - in the back.
You need not be a passenger in life.
Smoldering coal, smoldering and dreams of tomorrow.
I won’t write you how to live, the guest writer died in me.
I read the bible, but I don’t know who the author is.
And is it fun to drive a dream from the Campry trunk? (unlikely)
The bullet speed is too high.
On five - four, like Liverpool at Arshavin.
Our car has its own chip, bracho.
In our car there is no reverse gear.

“Do you know what they need in the wild?”
- No.
- And you fuck?
- No. No, they are bawling.
- If you're on a betrayal, turn on the back now. Then it will be too late.
- On treason? Are you stunned !? I'm trying to survive as I can ...