Мутант Ъхвлам - Без Названия - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

You have funny magnets on your refrigerator,

and also looked suspicious in the maternity hospital.

Was born bald, saw socialism in a union of republics,

then rockets and bulbs. My grannies called me a skinhead,

and I was in love with Naomi Campbell.

Crimea was no longer ours, Letov's songs

sang, drank, was white, brewed chalk. I rolled plastic with the mutants, and then it was autumn.

Comrade Joseph on the computer screensaver.

Both before and after meals we smoke, ariverda.

Fortune is with us, brothers! The skates haven't been kicked off yet,

but the steps lead into a deep vagina.

Hello, world where I rotted, dear Magnitka lights,

here, brothers, I’m walking towards them with both feet.

A couple of varieties of herbs for breakfast - get up, country, follow the smell.

Tomorrow will not be the same as yesterday. Get up in the morning, quit tobacco, die like Tupac. Life is short.

My slipper smelled, yes, of drapp. Forgive me, ma, I'm a drug addict.

But know this: I won’t go to Hell for long hair and a box of tic-tacs with marijuana,

my address is the basement and every mutant is like a brother to me.

In foggy Amsterdam, in pedantic Germany, in drug-addicted England, Patrice underground with wild squeals.

And our train leaves the Chelyabinsk region for Kingston.

Crimea was ours, just as marijuana was ours, and now good ganja is becoming less and less common.

Russia dances to the music of the USA and now it’s good that “SASHA WALKED ON THE HIGHWAY AND SUCKED.” Now it's pop.

In retaliation, I pissed blue on Karl Marx Avenue. Say "Vokzaaaaal!" Don't wait for me, trash.

Roizman will not pass the attack, but perhaps to the bugger. Someone said “the pussy has arrived, brothers” - snow in September, delirium in a dream.

For lunch, sausage and bread, but I’m not tired of the fucking rap yet, we’ll do it again.