Кроссовер Шисот Шесть и Нудный - рЕп Не Для Людей - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Sednya about the referers we will push. About the inept cockses of those who can only chat, all kinds of garbage Muynya. REP for fagots and their friends, which are around, shine in a square, a circle. I have no way without a malafi in the text. I will go to the Guf October 3 into the consumption of the common fund, the volume was allowed, his fucking rnatan was covered with a pus of the trunk, he stolen and died, goodbye Sweet Prince Bron. This is no longer good to talk about love. You can only love with pussy dicks and mouth. This is the same as a rep about a mother, which can be fucked maximum in the mouth. I only need you girl, you hear, go here I will dissect and fuck you, forgive the fool dear, the Cheto has gone to hell again, I will collect you again and everything will be cool. You are all brainless stupid, learn to fuck mitol, this is the only true music, the mother will then praise for it. And then her money has to be spent minus. Without growing more than one mustache, you can’t get into YUSEA, without talking with the nigers not to recognize rap, without holding the barrel in your hands, not to become a poet. Therefore, do not injure yourself with your turnip, go to the dick, or take the hooks, fire leather chebureks, just do not talk about it. Just don't talk about it. You never come to success if success for you is a thousand dreaming stupid pyodes, then yes. You can also sing about the son -in -law not to take it and in every prior they will know you, you definitely can fuck a fucking cheek, or a Lezginka with dancing, you need to eradicate the reptables so that there are no cooking fagots, you need to help the world in this, leave only a necro , and cutting all the pigs, the Republic is not for people.

Our terror. Vanek and Mzhgan. We smoke hookah fucking hardcore. And you rub staph, you are erecting bumps to the cult. I am norms about substances. This is like a champion goes only shit I do not look like the gods. Well, and huli? You say to the boys as a ficticent hit the bullets, you live a percentage on Mamkin. We sold the hut like, we will be Sasat dick at Mavrodi. The story is simple - the kid from the region, loved Difchenka. I took it on a fang. There was a Lubof. But Ibrahim fucked a barbecue. She went to him. I still love you. Come back to me I suffer very much, I play Xbox all day. Ugh fucking. Fuck it with a horse of dude. Sweat a whore on a goulash, Mitol mortal and you. But you are a tanker with experience, all the rulers opened, suddenly schoolchildren bend you, what can we say? You fucking fuck, art will not help you, like your roots, when you will smear you on the ground. Add fucker. Hip-hap culture, vnaturi, your text is only waste paper. Try for schoolgirls that they orgasm from the matyugs. But God does not love Huyun. Satan does not quarrel. Six six, six six ... and tedious. The text is foul. He wrote under a fly. This minus Vanek in his underpants set up from five notes, recorded in an iPad on a notebook. And you don’t fuck, breeze lentil soup ... The soup is lentil.