Чёрная Экономика - Чужая корона - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Caps are not with a straight visor, the pants are not wide, from the banks of Moscow we let the wigs, a shame of the head to zero, not patrolla, we do not wear wigs and not the sons of rich dads, assembly of tracks to the folder, trash on the paw, we make our contribution from plasticine we sculpt the tracks who will not bring bills of cutlets, in the summer the eyes are red as a ruby, chop like a rubbish chip, love smoke, pon through a pipette, salam of zagi side, the temptants of your columns, a place of residence Moscow Moscow, if you are dear, it is not a city dear, do not stumble This morgue threshold, at a fun on weekend, leaves the curved lines of Yura under the smoke, wraps the clergy, our autographs are knocked out on the walls with a wedge, harmless in essence from the clinic, the stations in the fuel oil, in the pocket of the wow, the rhymes will destroy nitrogen oxide, we Kochegars, we love the stoker and sculpt the MAZ in your spot, the black LIFTIAL ECONOMY as a drug, did not bury deeper, classics of gourmets, flight and aquamineraliyou

Coordination and thinking are disturbed, the desire for unhealthy movement is doubtful of our generation, you already realized that we have a fuck about someone else's opinion, we undermine the economy and influence market relations, and without any doubt we spoil the State Property, we can not take away the zosi, suck If you call our rapper singing, I dress the words on the bit like a fat capchik on Balton premium, I have a Medium t -shirt on me, on the shoulder of the tattoo under the hood of 2.8 in the pocket of the hard shelf from which there is almost no rapportment, this is like a terminator and a self -propelled vehicle used to be counted a plan on matchboxes, now always a scan at the side, tears his head especially if you smoke a Russian bong, a dick on the forehead of the crowds of our crowds, especially those who are under Liser and a shot, those who are against the quarrel later, shake with rhyme juice, bend with cancer, pretend It’s better with an asshole than to be our enemy, with every step in the other direction, it will be difficult for you as a white crow, even if you yourself dressed the crown, the black economy will be removed and the p is divided Orovna, the black economy will share equally, if you yourself dressed the crown, the black economy will remove it and share it equally

I used to not steam with the rhyme as a result in my pocket of their packs, and I smoke Maaaaaan's most savory splif, the frequencies will download how the stallion on the races, the violins blushed at my tracks, the hap is dripping with lines on the sheets, our self -packing basement is fucked on a lightweight In your player and on the pussy, from all of Russia from our town from the end to the end of the other, my hand holds the microoo and no fuck the arbiter whistle is unable to stop the black-economic movements without blinks and Menzhukhi in your ears, our blow-up musion, fuck On all laws, our rhymes are fed up, set our unfiltered staphs, and if you are the Black-Economic mafia from the face of the earth of the Sabafit, but in general we are good, delve into my nasal sections

And this is the sound that rushing you, let's forget about the past and look forward and here the fuck people are the opposite, right now it would be somewhere yes to the resort, and I let the trigger into those who are against the ariet, verbal somersault and he will blow up, I do not Proof but the halt hip-hop revolution, this is the first lesson and it will not fuck me, read Dubby backwards, gets the outskirts of any ibut, and the years are a proven spirit, and I’m sure such a flame will go out, you do not chat, the main thing either in classmates or VKontakte, according to the classic with a cross, we note on the map, and wait for us to visit our huts, but in general we don’t want a bad one, we are where we are high -rise buildings, we are where the smoke, for the completeness of the picture, its beauty, black The economy falls asleep in lines with gold, with a magician Maram and Shulyai Rvanina, under the grill, we fry the chicken on the grill, the words are priceless so that we do not speak, especially the half of the way we smoke