М-095 - Серебряный Ветер - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Late evening, clouds hung over Moscow, it is no coincidence

We are going together today, the mood is normal,

The weather does not break off, we collect a hundred,

We go into the turn and to the garden ring,

Towards the headlights, headlights - blinds the high world,

And we will pass unnoticed, in our light there is no MAZ.

Sounds hip-hop, into reality turns our dreams,

Shakes the wheelbarrow, everything else - to the pussy,

To the left turn, we are heading home,

And again, before us is the southwestern native of our district.

L. P. meets bright lights,

We slow down the speed, roll the yards,

Windows are open, and the lanterns are illuminated to us the way,

Smoke from cigarettes squeezes the chest a little,

The wheels do not fail, and we are again on the avenue

We fly, forgetting about everything, towards the wind.

Only silence, only a silver wind

He flew by and did not notice anyone, only darkness, only license plates, halogen headlights burn in darkness.

I press the gas, go to the point from you.

Four and a half seconds and a hundred miles per hour,

All troubles remain in the same town

Which we call the capital on the Moscow River,

The music is cutting me, my jamb is burning,

Lights dimensional lights, cuts the goat,

Does it attract me with a finger that there is such a thing between my legs caresses?

This is a little girl without a tribe and kind,

We roll it a little along the road, then leave it, we will quit,

She left, unbearable, without demand like this,

Let's smoke her, dude, forget it, a jamb,

There will be a nishtyak, the car would not have turned over, it is full of gasoline,

Screeching, tires, as if mines throw faki in the back,

Without a mobile, without a pager I throw messages in your brain,

At the wheel of a boor, long -distance pedestrians over the eyes.

Only silence, only the silver wind flew past and did not notice anyone, only darkness, only license plates, halogen headlights burn in the darkness.

Romance of the night, there are few cars on the road,

We are almost alone, the tension fell.

The bedspread of night Moscow envelops us,

Failure in time, in the ears only bass sounds,

And calls us to where the water,

There is Moscow-River, the observation is visible,

She, as in the palm of my hand, is the capital before us,

This picture is very difficult to describe in words.

We slow down on the curb, like pigeons, sluts

Smile at us with yellow teeth, healed lips,

The bazaar is with us, we are fucked up by fumes. "Come on, shmars!" - We thought between us,

We score, change, burn evenings, we never guess at home,

What the bazaar is about, to the hut, a matter of minutes.

Where? Strong blow - we fly nowhere.

Only silence, only the silver wind flew past and did not notice anyone, only darkness, only license plates, halogen headlights burn in the darkness.