Пян-Се Clan - Пустыня талантов - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Chorus # 1:

This is the Civil Code, this is Cor,

Not feces of catacombs,

Exercise from the patterns of these indoor bombs,

And slightly about the taboo

Have you heard of this? NEAAA

Head on the ax

Pal:

Waiting a length in infinity - here it is a disgusting eight, what is it about?

Fate cripples the smoke hundreds of rings, happiness will come, but will find you dead,

Life pokes underground cats with a muzzle in their feces,

With the question: who did it? Who did it?

And if you have delved into a lot: on the battle all cowboys, fucking, and zero Mogican

In the country of the Gulliver Rap, like a dwarf radical, such a subway is the bottom of the rapak,

I congratulate you on the fourth passage, boys

After all, it is how to congratulate the worm on the day of the fisherman,

I have not digging holes yet to reach the bottom of the rapak,

And did not hesitate the texts for Narikov? as?

The dungeons are not light from lamps,

But there are no traces of shovels on the texts,

Rap - fucking pawnshop:

How much sense you would not put in the n-megabyt

No one will buy anything

In search of moisture in the desert, you need to dig deeper,

But I see you, it’s easier and better from a puddle glass

Stretch so helpfully, you drink, immediately water,

And a hundred morons will support this,

It's time to accompany you: your songs are not visible in your songs,

Gentlemen are only beautiful clothes

Chorus # 2:

Sand is poured from decrepit talents, sands pouring, pouring velvet,

And hundreds of people chew him in the comments, raising glasses

Casper:

There is a lot in the world of a friend Horatio,

That your sages are unknown,

While one is destined to climb the mountains of corpses,

Others are stretched out of the names.

We are in joy with your ensemble to converge on sabers,

The result is not predictable, neither Vanga nor Kandra

They will not buy it. Yes, throw it with one tingure,

You look at these gentlemen of impressive

Hip-hap is groin, an antediluvian dough,

Puts like a drowned man, water is straight all around,

Connoisseurs approved the feed of camels,

You thought you got up, but surfaced up your belly,

After all, a cheap style is visible and a discount without a sticker,

The awards that were looted, becoming sand

Through your fingers, and you rush to collect them,

Your victory is just a mirage in this desert.

I hear the roar and a crunch of bones under my feet, but it does not allow them to see posture,

Pru to the paradise of the abyss, stumbling in order to break, to perform a double somersault

And feel the high of flight, transfer it to mp3 and excite the minds,

And what do you sing, fucking, drawing inspiration from the bottom of one and a half.

So the listener, have you comfortably sat down?

Right now a fashionable sound, like beads to the natives

You will fall for those whose rap garbage, they say

Those who do not write music with their hearts.

Chorus No. 2

Sand is poured from decrepit talents, sands pouring, pouring velvet,

And hundreds of people chew him in the comments, raising glasses

Cor:

Yo, there is an operation of a deserted storm, but we are ready to go for everything to go to these persons who pull the MAZ in a fierce for a call. And we go down from heaven to break the bastards.

Here a couple of Khukov and shit flowed to you on the Lyakhs. You are happy with fagots, confusing warm with soft. I will put you all on the towers, Feckali is not a pity, each of you is grateful to me for a warm hat.

Our rap, like a shocker huyarit underground. Mole from the holes crawled, and sat down in shock. Like how so? They were blown away for a long time! But the experience in the case forces to wait to set fire.

We, as the Chinese in factories, plowed brutally, without time, but with plans, without current, without a bath. (violins!) So that you have flocked the meat, until all the deserts with sand and dunes are gone.