As the track city was written under the sole. Lyrics of the song city under the sole. Let's start parsing
Whether Don, whether Volga flows. Kotomku - on the shoulder.
Pain in the chest - there is a secret, opened with a crowbar, not a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count.
Long dusty scratch, van full of boxes of merch.
We believe - lucky, our beds are portable.
Minstrel - two ways: corporate party or apartment building.
The schemes are the same. Everyone is MC now.
After all, having generated a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here,
Now rap is multiparty. Having spawned Battles,
I look in the mirror like, "How much trouble have you done!?"
I would enslave all rap, but all the time on the road.
The industry has a nervous tic, valocordin - angina pectoris.
Gather the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become people.
Don't fuck! I lay on you, servants, five times,
Because we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.
Past the poplars and the ripe bread of the fields,
Where are Yesenin's ghosts, a cross, a prayer service, oil.
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it.
We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singles like puppies.
He was a stranger, but Okhra, Porchi, Ilya are more than a family.
He composed a bomb at night, which he filled with urine.
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get to know each other.
I am not a biorobot with a positive look of a Komsomol member.
Hey! Deliver me from your panaceas.
Home Paracelsus, because for me to fuck is an end in itself.
Tired? We don't give a shit, Tony Stark as standard.
A couple of countries, freeways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moskvabad.
Passports, din of the stage, like hot cakes.
At least along the Moscow Ring Road "at the start, at least to Madagascar. (You know!)
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
What a year, what a city under the sole.
Uphill when pret. Then downhill, when sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom.
You live under the heel, I have the city under the sole.
Give strength here not to collapse and not break.
There is a route and there is on the track locality,
And they are waiting for us there today. Whine, don't be feminine.
Ruslan has soundtracks for the journey in his deck.
Again the eblo is asleep, again the rise is dark.
Again the armor, again the road, the bag - behind the back.
Everything hastily, in the field shit, rain, overcast.
Bridge to Asgard - after, let them just be lucky with transport.
I make each of my verses a self-portrait.
An hour on the check, we rap like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets: the logo on the wall is everywhere.
My teaching is for everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that's it, mark "Good."
They used to say "I would not go on reconnaissance with him."
I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test. (Houmi, know!)
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
What a year, what a city under the sole.
Uphill when pret. Then downhill, when sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom.
You live under the heel, I have the city under the sole.
Did you like the lyrics?
Leave a comment below
Don, whether the Volga flows - a knapsack on the shoulder,
Pain in the chest - there is a secret, opened with a crowbar, not a key.
How many more miles? The short flight did not count,
Long dusty scratch, van full of boxes of merch.
We believe - lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment building.
The schemes are the same, everyone is now an MC, after all,
Having created a shift, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.
Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles,
I look in the mirror like “How much trouble you have done!”.
I would have enslaved all rap, but all the time on the road,
The industry has a nervous tic - valocordin angina pectoris.
Gather the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become people.
Don't f*ck, I lay on you, servants, five times,
Because we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
Past the poplars and the ripe bread of the fields,
Where is Yesenin's ghost, prayer cross, oil.
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it,
We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singles like puppies,
He was a stranger, but Okhra, Porchy, Ilya are more than a family.
He composed a bomb at night that he stuffed urine,
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get acquainted with every second,
I am not a biorobot with a positive look of a Komsomol member.
Deliver me from your panacea home Paracelsus,
After all, for me to fuck is an end in itself.
Tired - we don't give a shit, Tony Stark as the standard,
A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan,
Moskvabad. Passports to us from countries like hot cakes.
At least along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, at least to Madagascar.
You know: all my rap, in short, is about the fact that
Already which year which city is under the sole.
Uphill, when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is in the grotto or at the bottom,
You live under a heel, I have a city under my sole.
Give strength here not to collapse and not break; there is a route
And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today.
Whine, don't be feminine
Ruslan has soundtracks for the journey in his deck.
Again f*lo fell asleep, again the rise is dark,
Again bronik, again the road, a bag behind his back.
Everything hastily, if shit, rain, overcast.
Bridge to Asgard, after that let it just be lucky with transport.
I make every verse a self-portrait
We often read a check, rap like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching to everyone is like Mohammed with Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, the mark is “good”.
They used to say "I would not go on reconnaissance with him" -
I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test.
Homie, know my rap, in short, about what
Already which year which city is under the sole.
Uphill, when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still the city is under the sole
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is in the grotto or at the bottom,
You live under a heel, I have a city under my sole.
Whether Don, whether Volga flows. Kotomku - on the shoulder.
Pain in the chest - there is a secret, opened with a crowbar, not a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count.
Long dusty scratch, van full of boxes of merch.
We believe - lucky, our beds are portable.
Minstrel - two ways: corporate party or apartment building.
The schemes are the same. Everyone is MC now.
After all, having generated a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here,
Now rap is multiparty. Having spawned Battles,
I look in the mirror like, "How much trouble have you done!?"
I would enslave all rap, but all the time on the road.
The industry has a nervous tic, valocordin - angina pectoris.
Gather the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become people.
Don't fuck! I lay on you, servants, five times,
Because we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.
Past the poplars and the ripe bread of the fields,
Where are Yesenin's ghosts, a cross, a prayer service, oil.
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it.
We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singles like puppies.
He was a stranger, but Okhra, Porchi, Ilya are more than a family.
He composed a bomb at night, which he filled with urine.
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get to know each other.
I am not a biorobot with a positive look of a Komsomol member.
Hey! Deliver me from your panaceas.
Home Paracelsus, because for me to fuck is an end in itself.
Tired? We don't give a shit, Tony Stark as standard.
A couple of countries, freeways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moskvabad.
Passports, din of the stage, like hot cakes.
At least along the Moscow Ring Road "at the start, at least to Madagascar. (You know!)
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
What a year, what a city under the sole.
Uphill when pret. Then downhill, when sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom.
You live under the heel, I have the city under the sole.
Give strength here not to collapse and not break.
There is a route and there is a settlement on the highway,
And they are waiting for us there today. Whine, don't be feminine.
Ruslan has soundtracks for the journey in his deck.
Again the eblo is asleep, again the rise is dark.
Again the armor, again the road, the bag - behind the back.
Everything hastily, in the field shit, rain, overcast.
Bridge to Asgard - after, let them just be lucky with transport.
I make each of my verses a self-portrait.
An hour on the check, we rap like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets: the logo on the wall is everywhere.
My teaching is for everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that's it, mark "Good."
They used to say "I would not go on reconnaissance with him."
I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test. (Houmi, know!)
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
What a year, what a city under the sole.
Uphill when pret. Then downhill, when sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom.
You live under the heel, I have the city under the sole.
Did you like the lyrics?
Leave a comment below
Don, whether the Volga flows - a knapsack on the shoulder,
Pain in the chest - there is a secret, opened with a crowbar, not a key.
How many more miles? The short flight did not count,
Long, dusty scratch, van full of boxes of merch.
We believe - lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment building.
Schemes are the same - everyone is now MC,
After all, having created a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.
Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles,
I look in the mirror like, "How much trouble have you done!"
I would have enslaved all rap, but all the time on the road,
The industry has a nervous tic - valocordin angina pectoris
Gather the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become people.
Don't fuck, I'm betting on you, servants, five times,
Because we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.
All my rap, in short, about the fact that
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
Past the poplars and the ripe bread of the fields,
Where is Yesenin's ghost, prayer cross, oil
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it
We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not an Aquarius
Our land drowns singles like puppies,
Was a stranger, but OHRA, Porchy, Ilya - more than a family.
He composed a bomb at night that he stuffed urine,
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get acquainted with every second,
I am not a biorobot with a positive look of a Komsomol member.
Hey, deliver me from your panaceas, homely Paracelsus,
After all, for me to fuck is an end in itself.
Tired - we don't give a shit, Tony Stark as the standard,
A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moskvabad.
Passports - there are popular bands,
At least along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, at least to Madagascar!
You know: all my rap, in short, is about the fact that
Already which year which city is under the sole.
Uphill, when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is to ford or to the bottom,
You live under a heel, I have a city under my sole.
Give strength here not to collapse and not break; there is a route
And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today.
Whine, don't be feminine
Ruslan has soundtracks for the journey in his deck.
Again the fuck is asleep, again the rise is dark,
Again bronik, again the road, a bag behind his back.
Everything hastily, shit in the field, rain, cloudy
Bridge to Asgard, after that let it just be lucky with transport
I make every verse a self-portrait
Often we read rap like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching is to everyone, like Mahomet and Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood
Napkins - wipe your ass, and that's it, the mark is "good."
They used to say: “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” -
I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test.
Homie, know: my rap, in short, about what
Already which year which city is under the sole.
Uphill, when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don't know if this path is to ford or to the bottom,
You live under a heel, I have a city under my sole Is Don, Volga flows there - knapsack on his shoulder,
Chest pain - there taynichok open crowbar, not the key.
How many more miles? The flight was short does not count,
The long, dusty Sanchez, a van full of boxes with merch.
We believe - lucky, our portable bed.
Minstrel two ways - corporate or appartment.
Schemes of the same type - are all now MC,
After all, species change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.
Now rap multiparty battle spawn,
I look in the mirror of the type "What troubles you bloat!"
I would whole rap enslaved, but the travel time,
In industry tic - valokordin stenokardiynym
Collect the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we were beaten out in people.
Do not bullshit me, I put to you, servants, five times,
After all, we stand strong, though the jaw of Pithecanthropus.
All my rap, if briefly, about the fact that
Past poplars and fields of ripe corn,
Where ghost Esenina Cross prayer, firs
From the van I see the ground, I see the sky above it
We will overcome everything, if not, then I do not smoke detector
Our land is drowning singles like puppies,
He was a stranger, but the guards, Porchy, Ilya - more than the family.
The bomb was composed at night, that is urine stuffed,
I wanted to belong to something larger than myself.
The world is empty, even made friends with every second,
I do not biorobot with positive lyboy Komsomolets.
Hey, save me from your panacea, home Paracelsus,
After all, for me ebashit - an end in itself.
Tired - we don't care, Tony Stark as standard,
Couple country highway Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moskvabad.
Passports - there is great demand Estrada,
Thought on the Ring Road at the start, even though Madagascar!
You know: my whole rap, if briefly, about the fact that
Already that year that city under the sole.
In the mountain when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I "m not that Gulliver, but still under the sole city.
city under the sole city under the sole
Traffic lights, state taxes, fees and customs.
I do not know, wade or on the bottom of the track,
You live under the heel, I have a city under the sole.
Let "s not silenok collapse and break; there is a route
And there on the track location and waiting for us out there today.
Whiner don't be feminine
Ruslan deck in the soundtracks to travel.
Again eblo sleepy again rise before dark,
Again Armor again the road, behind the bag.
All hastily, in the shit, rain, overcast
Bridge to Asgard, albeit after a lucky transport
I do every verse of his self-portrait,
Often h-rap as a speech therapist at marafet.
Stencil on the parapets, the logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching everyone how to Mohammed Baphomet.
I am a star? Give a warm blanket and a hood,
Napkins - wipe your ass, that's all, the mark "good".
They used to say: "I would be with him in intelligence did not go" -
I "m with you on tour did not go, you did not pass inspection.
Homie, know this: my rap, if briefly, about the fact that
Already that year that city under the sole.
In the mountain when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I "m not that Gulliver, but still under the sole city.
city under the sole city under the sole
Traffic lights, state taxes, fees and customs.
I do not know, wade or on the bottom of the track,
You live under the heel, I have a city under the sole
A#m Don, whether the Volga flows - a knapsack on the shoulder, A#m Pain in the chest - there is a secret, opened with a crowbar, not a key. F# How many more miles, a short flight did not count, F# Long dusty scratch, van full of boxes of merch. A#m We believe - lucky, our beds are portable. A#m There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment building. F# The schemes are the same, everyone is now an MC, after all, F# Having created a shift, we have achieved a paradigm shift here. A#m Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles, A#m I look in the mirror like, "How much trouble have you done!" F# I would have enslaved all rap, but all the time on the road, F# The industry has a nervous tick - valocordin angina pectoris A#m Gather the court, but the winners are not judged. A#m We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become people. F# Don't fuck, I'm betting on you, servants, five times, F# Because we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus. A#m All my rap, in short, about the fact that A#m F# F# A#m A#m F# F# A#m Past the poplars, and the ripe bread of the fields, A#m Where is Yesenin's ghost, a cross, a prayer service, oil. F# From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it. F# We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not an Aquarius. A#m Our land drowns singles like puppies, A#m He was a stranger, but Okhra, Porchi, Ilya are more than a family. F# He composed a bomb at night that he stuffed urine, F# I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me. A#m The world is empty, at least get acquainted with every second, A#m I am not a biorobot with a positive look of a Komsomol member. F# Ehh ... Deliver me from your panacea, home Paracelsus, F# After all, for me to fuck is an end in itself. A#m Tired - we don't give a shit, Tony Stark as the standard, A#m A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan, F# Moskvabad. Passports are in great demand for us, F# At least along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, at least to Madagascar. A#m You know, all my rap, in short, is about the fact that A#m Already which year which city is under the sole. F# Uphill when rushing, then downhill when sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom, F# You live under a heel, I have a city under my sole. A#m Give strength here not to collapse and not break. There is a route A#m And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today. F# Whine, don't be feminine F# Ruslan has soundtracks for the journey in his deck. A#m Again the fuck is asleep, again the rise is dark, A#m Again bronik, again the road, a bag behind his back. F# Everything hastily, if shit, rain, overcast. F# Bridge to Asgard after, let them just be lucky with transport. A#m I make every verse a self-portrait A#m Often a check, we rap like a speech therapist under a marathon. F# Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall, F# Everywhere my teaching to everyone is like Mohammed with Baphomet. A#m I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood A#m Wipe your ass with napkins - and that's it, the mark is "good." F# They used to say "I would not go on reconnaissance with him" - F# I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test. A#m Homie, know my rap, in short, about what A#m Already which year which city is under the sole. F# Uphill when rushing, then downhill when sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don't know if this path is ford or at the bottom, F# You live under the heel, I have the city under the sole