Рем Дигга и Black Market - Что Да, То Да - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Everything is the same as before, there is chaos in the areas,

Invisible graters in the crown of the boy, what did you want?

Lovers of drinking and carousing, kings of murky affairs

And the cops have radars here, along with the fact that you know this department

The car license plates are familiar, this is an opera and we don’t pretend to give it away, tell us to do the fuck

The pants of the punks are stuffed with bags, take a step, the patsiki forgot the cat photos

New topics have been mined around the heels, where hashish is so tricky

People are hanging around, people are taking mother’s gold to the pawnshop, for a quarter of the price, dear sons.

Next, it’s not the soup that’s boiling, and the spoon too, the cronyism of experimenters with needles under the skin, oh my God.

The streets are boiling, teeming with lonely whores, horns for the sake of the road or cars, messing around with beds,

And we weren’t and won’t be nice gentlemen, to hell, even if you’re all lost, if you’re all a bitch.

Apparently invisible - the paths are so clogged, the madams are forgotten, well, where should they go?

Hey, I'm diga here with the brothers Masta Rams killed and that's why

Someone like cop Varick doesn’t have to show us his appearance

I am conducting a monologue about the same misfortune, about the lost heel, about many of those who are not underground, but in hell.

Bars fumes and brews, negotiations, so that on a nickel, papirs do not fall under the gaze

The police officers, whoever they are, are not ordered to throw chalk at them, otherwise there will be trouble.

It’s better to stand still, the mentality is different, they’ll give you an evil poisonous poppy infusion.

You run, don’t run, either here or there, be it a disaster, because wherever the heel is, it will stupidly be drowned by this floating environment.

Chorus:

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

A couple of cans and bags donated by Boriga at that moment, my tank was flooded

The booths have been killed again for whom the prisons cry, mm like this

There are more moths here than there are dogs, the cops are attracted by the check of owls, like balls of matzanina are burned by junkies for a fraction of the hours.

He carries a jug of swill, hashish resin, a stall of the soul, they take jackpots from the floor, braza, wait, don’t rush.

It’s not worth putting it down soon, so as not to break it and drag it to the car like felt.

So that they don’t kick them, don’t take them under the rims and put them out in a pack.

Damn halls, there are dogs in the mud, white coal is pouring down and bitches are taking off their panties

Mineral stains the mustache, chewing gum is slanted for dogs, cars inside with bass, in motion they are dead again for a day,

The day was killed, an essay about him, the handwriting is familiar, so and so he scribbles secretly, Diga about other things like that

Under the blows of barrels and von Duke Elington, no sleep comes at night, interrupted by the beat and motives.

My banal story may not be for you, nonsense for the masses, my yo,

Years to attack, a trace for an hour, maybe, or vice versa too...

Chorus:

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.

Things go on and on and on and on, the cities are in full swing.