Текст песни mc2 - легенды фронтира

I wasn’t in the city for seven moons, and straight off to the saloon -
gets a salute from his feet, who thought he is the smartest.
I returned with a round sum from Texas.
the time of the wild west and serfdom among Russians.

through the hall I’m moving to the counter: amigo, I have viskarika.
under the scorching sun, the price of risk is great,
I know the faces from the wanted alive or dead posters.
on rare weekend pockets full of lavender.

I'm not the one a lot of laugh at rolls over,
therefore, the cowboy catches the scoreboard with a glass.
but there is noise around and no one notices a fight -
in the bar’s room, one hundred souls per hundred squares.

bounty hunters at the far table
but I myself am so hot colt is hiding in a holster.
I go upstairs calmly, a taper piano injures my fingers,
I am a wolf among the country style coyotes.

on the second floor - Madame, this is the mistress of the brothel,
a smile in lipstick, by the local standards mannered,
she’s got everything here: red, black, white,
for money, but I only need my queen.

you know where. the rooms are not fighting on the ground.
from the hinges of the door - she is alone, pack up immediately.
stockings and corset, the front sight on the cheek is not glued,
eyelashes clap, yes, it’s I - her captive.

after a minute we jump out the window, quietly
down the ledge, take off one thug from the hip.
profitable business, and girls - their capital.
move to the horse on a leash. not to comment

while I beat the trigger with my left palm, that’s the way -
on the sides of the sighting lead he threw them.
together we jump onto a horse, spurs to its sides, onto !.
Dawn on the horizon, California is growing red.

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by decree of the pet, the mother of the cities cuts the placenta.
in Moscow city, a hail packet flies from the district center.
that's where the under is - I live on a benefit from Rosenko.
between the rhyme closes into the fifth loophole.
pam-pam-param-pam!
the junta promised hacienda with two slaves.

I am an underground cat, I have a cotton T-shirt.
your role is junk from an acid house.
for one room the dogs fuck you.
in the fourth I cook fried chicken.
pam-pam-param-pam!
the academician will be silent at the ballik dance.

behind the curb is still the power of the Bolsheviks,
but they will remove Ulyanov from ziggurat in our lifetime.
Is the Ukrainian army pissed off?
Avril Avalanche will sing about it under a guitar reef.
pam-pam-param-pam!
catch the Entente fist - military time.

drowning for Alyosha, I - for Katya Vinokurova,
pack garbage lying - in vain farted into a shout.
you would have necro climbed to attack the corpse.
without batting, shoot a political officer in the back.
pam-pam-param-pam!
Your ninth of May sent in three letters.

of those remaining here is the most dangerous fruit,
rummaged in a basket, as if he had taken a bug, phew!
like old man Leo Koen, I’m not waiting for a miracle, but a chance -
in the warrior field, just do it. from rap prus and jazz.
pam-pam-param-pam!
I inform you that communism will not come, sasha.

NATO and the pro system -
stop, red traffic light.
Smeagol sits in the Kremlin,
responsible for Sevastopol.
instead of apologies, that's all
take the Kuban and growths.