Метъ14

Master tuning, build good and lasting peace
Now stagnation, but it is not worth anything to us
He recognizes the system, shot meal, upset
At the dispensary, or the Philharmonic in Germany
I'll be stroking a bag in his pocket
Examine the roots, the ancestors we know you and remember
Today at the computer to hear the law, looking for a window
An eye for an eye, and are not enough lines
I have not heard the roar of the cosmodrome
The world is a layer cake
Pyramid breaking anything, we lose the core
Take the hammer, grab bucket. Will drive the nails into the coffin.

In the market of people with disabilities, there is a blizzard in the hands of the bank burns
Well, I do splyashem ska-punk
He drove combine lip-synching
Speaks beds rose dried apricots, but already there is a reptile on Gade
He supposedly peace like Mahatma Gandhi
Bank Cola lit from behind
Mutant common name,
Perhaps it is necessary to file a patent, there is a package
The day is not lost, yet share
Where is the pharmacy?
Underground dialect newspaper for boards
The market is crippled, smoldering flame bank
And the molecules of this smoke holes in the bank
Living in the bank, there is in the bank to supplement
Pin and deftly banks

Silver Book, fairy tale world, led sativa
Theme motive get marvelous picture
Oppositely, when the engine and take svokomom
Party intercepted as pipette started
People are well-read
Do not overpay, crying give change

Food to the country, crisis, crying grandmother
Cola in the bank, pop cans, tanks Taganka
Politicians of their ranks, and we narco
Moscow is the capital, Schmal in greenhouses, junkies in Ibiza
Movies with Vitsin rushing for fun without any pricks

Legs of adult maturity thickets
Fucking, but not quite
On the walls of the smoky traces of the atmosphere
Cycling for three hours
And noisy criticism of gonorrhea and gonorrhea
Viva Korea, the East warm, west smooth shave
Russian MC love to sing
The driver drives a canoe Venice
Helping to swim slops
In my many nebyli concept of the concept
And more nebyli dusty valley sky
I completely killed by the green wave
We do not become fashionable to have settled at the bottom
Every day believed
This music is no more than a broom
But it's not about the money, it's there
Ma-ma-marijuana did not give me a talent of dough
Vocals smoothly flows into the basement
Mourning beat glands head hoard cash plan