Текст песни эндшпиль борода
Обновлено: 19.09.2024
Навеки вечные калеки-речи,
Кто не слышал брата. Забота, район и лепота,
Невзгоды по пятам и накатаю я закатами куплеты.
Куплеты не для всех, для некоторых - ветер.
Я Бастер Китон, и все меньше хочется смеяться.
Сосчитаю свои плюсы не загибая пальцы.
Мы проникаем в дебри разума, откройся звуку.
Ston Heng на битах - цени, братуха.
Это дым из окон - мой luxury посыл.
Среди сверстников дичь, братик, я не остыл.
Соткана манага водоворотом плыл бы былью,
Был бы лыком шит, но из нитом выл бы былью.
Ломало балабола, мол, дала нам бам.
В мантры нагадали неведомый напалм.
Набрал на балл, играл, но я коцал за идею
На бумаге мои мысли, то чего вы так хотели.
То, что прёт - эти идеи не купишь за бабло,
Тут по-старому за кайф могут залезть в ебло.
Старые знакомые - черепахи-ниндзя.
Панцири крепки, но дурманом правит Кинза.
В жизни её ебаной так делать по кайфу,
Нарубили дров, давай жечь угли по лайфу.
За наши поступки в ответе только мы.
Цензура прячет бонги. Брат, нас вези.
Forever crippled speech
Who did not hear the brother. Caring, district and babble,
Adversities on the heels and I will roll couplets with sunsets.
Verses are not for everyone, for some - the wind.
Keep an eye on the sails, peaked deadlocks peaked.
They trampled the planet with their feet, walked through the valleys, streets -
We tempered time. I am out of sight of the pit!
Let's plant a tree.
I have nothing to live if you're not around, even kill yourself!
Someday I’ll put myself in order.
Enrages this sediment of misunderstandings between me and me,
And in my sea the raft is sinking, which is wildly crumpled.
I'm Buster Keaton, and less and less I want to laugh.
I will count my advantages without bending my fingers.
We penetrate the wilds of the mind, open to the sound.
Ston Heng on the Bits - Appreciate, Brother.
Chorus [x2]:
Certainly mana is also bloody by bit.
The streets were burning and freedom on the heels.
That instantly happy covered the fuss
Into me like a Bosch schoolboy
I’ll break in for sure!
This smoke from the windows is my luxury promise.
Among peers, game, brother, I did not cool down.
A managa woven with a whirlpool would have come true,
It would be a bast sewn, but from a nit would howl come true.
Broke balabola supposedly gave us bam.
In the mantras they guessed an unknown napalm.
Scored on the score, played, but I scammed for the idea
On paper, my thoughts are what you really wanted.
What rushing - these ideas you can’t buy for the loot,
Here, in the old fashion, they can get into the buzz.
Old acquaintances - ninja turtles.
The shells are strong, but Cilantro rules the dope.
In her life, fucking do it high
They chopped wood, let's burn coals on life.
Only we are responsible for our actions.
Censorship hides bongs. Brother, take us.
Chorus [x2]:
Certainly mana is also bloody by bit.
The streets were burning and freedom on the heels.
That instantly happy vanity covered
In me, like in a Bosch schoolboy
I’ll break in for sure!
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