Микола Перестукинский - в армии - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Private Peretkinsky finished writing a letter, set a bold point and farted loudly.

Yo-mine! When is Demel?!

Yo-mine! When is Demel?!

Yo-mine! When is Demel?!

When is Demel?!

Great hip-hop nation (salute!) And the rest Hello (YOU!)

Mikola Parkutkinsky reads a new topic.

A little fucking, sad, but very necessary

About how wonderful it is to serve the glory of the Motherland.

They beat them without demand, drove a week on the train,

Arrived, built, and then the cloak is complete:

Snowdrifts, fucking, huge, trees, fucking, short

And the whole day is dark. Serve your health!

Well, the hift, rise, then on the schedule:

Grace three times a day is green, cold.

In short, you can live, but I don't like it

My new team. Some are all striped.

My grandfather comes up to me on a call

“Son,” he is Baklain - the footcloths are already dirty.

Come on, fucking, rush. "And I stand and think:

"Why did he get the case, that I shit him, a relative?!"

"Go and wash yourself!" - Oh, how he was offended here.

He began to wave his hands, shout: "Bastard, hang!"

With him, like, it is impossible. Well, you yourself understand

He had to breed Lule for comfort.

They raised at three o’clock, more precisely, threw off the bed,

Pinali, as best they could, were paid by conscience.

But it was not me. Did you really think that I was such a fool?

Of course, the fuck has changed, in some places with a dude.

I persuaded the whole evening, and here you have the result - the soldier was killed

For almost just a fooling grandfather,

And then they took the medical care point.

Noticed a catch, returned in terrible rage

"Where is this, fucking, freak of Mikola Parkutkinsky?

Come here! " - and I'm lying quietly

And I think that I want to eat terribly.

And at home, in Parotkino, now, probably, great.

Mom baked hot pancakes with cottage cheese ...

And I also serve as to the moon on the tractor.

It's a shame that the service is not contract in Russia.

The morons of the demobilus (freaks) came off the coils,

We decided to lime specifically according to the charter, fucking.

They arranged in a gun, everyone was kicked out into the street,

You have now, let's run, like, run.

Until the morning we ran and jumped,

They pushed the ball of the earth, crawled together along the parade ground.

I was even tired of this shitty army

For these two hours of continuous bullying.

I get up and say: "That's it! Enough, fucking, bell out!

Guys, what are you? Afraid of these fagots?!

There are thirty of them, and there are five hundred of us with half a year!

Let’s fucking, let them do the same. "

What a beauty when they are busy!

Try, puff, pump, plaque, biceps.

Well, straight sea lions, defenders of the Fatherland.

Nice to see. I like this, fucking.

I now serve Nishtyak, I do almost nothing.

I look, I smoke, I write quietly songs

About this marvelous edge, about this eternal tundra.

In short, everything is O'Kay. I just miss me

Mamanin pancakes fried on the oil.

But this does not matter, because this demobil

Someday it will come, and I am with great joy

I will get drunk to vomit and the show am fun

Such a size that there will be little space for you.

Envy will die in New York, blacks immediately.

Mikola Peretukinsky serves in the army today,

And tomorrow my lyrics ... Well, then you know!

Well, goodbye, we will hear more than once,

Or maybe you will see you. It will be fun!

Write letters to me. Here is the address: Arctic,

V.Ch. GM-GM, Mikola Pablesinsky.

Six hundred and ninety days and thirteen hours remained to be an ordinary Parpetukinsky.

A-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! When is Demel?!