дОм престАрелых - Своё - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The city of Normativ, the city of dope and beer, the city of forgotten outskirts and lubby fagots, the city of the real, the city that is breathing, which for a row for a row has already been blown by the roof. I quietly went out and I don’t like the hood on my ears, this bitch strangles. I believe less people but more roots