Эмси Заяч и Диджей Большой Кей - Чёрный Ельцин - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Black Yeltsin comes to those who do not love Russia one night.

He opens the door of an apartment without a key, walks into the bedroom with quiet steps, moves a chair to the bed and sits opposite the sleeping one. And he is waiting until he wakes up from a strange feeling of an outsider in the house.

A person wakes up and sees a dark, heavy figure sitting in a chair. He screams and tries to get up, but his body is constrained by sleepy paralysis, not even allowing to move. And black Yeltsin looks into his eyes and begins to speak.

“Well,” says Black Yeltsin. “Do you like Russia?”

“I don’t like it,” the person honestly admits. “I can’t even eat.”

“Oh, you are a fag, fucking,” Black Yeltsin shakes his head.

A person nervously swallows saliva, breathes heavily and looks at the night guest. And black Yeltsin continues to speak.

“I,” says. “Of course, I made a lot of mistakes. But I, you know, always loved Russia! Because it is my homeland. Our country is great! We were born in it, we speak in its language, we have no other homeland. And You, Hamburg's rooster, still can’t understand for yourself that we have one homeland and that you need to love it! Like a mother. Do you love mom? ”

A man is silent and trembling.

“Eh, you, disgrace, fucking, pussy -headed,” Black Yeltsin continues. “I read on the Internet that it is not fashionable to be a patriot, yes? I read all these of his blogs -holes about how much they steal? Yes, you, you, elephant overseas fucking barking, finally take the reason that this is not a reason to dignify your homeland and your people. "Ah, fucking, fuck, revolution, ah, fucking, bitch, barricades, ah, fucking, naval-huyal"! Yes, you go Fuck, pussy! Be my will-you would have lived in such a shit now that you would have seemed to you 98 years with flowers. Ah, yes, you don’t remember the 98th. Pidor. ”

A person is trying to move, but he cannot even stop looking into the eyes of Black Yeltsin.

"How do you, fucking, are not ashamed to be such a fucker, and? You call your own people by cattle. And your people are who? And this, you understand, again your mother. Grandmother. Thy father, your uncle. Your relatives and your relatives and your relatives and Neighbors. Yes, they may not read these blozhiks on the Internet, they are pensioners, they are hardened at factories, they vote for only one president and are not going to delve into the problems of the creative intelligentsia, because they, believe them, just in them. The dick did not rise. And you are cattle? And you are their quilted jackets? What kind of wise, Lord, would you know what shit to grow - would give all the power to Limonov, that’s honest word! ”

“Do not Limonov,” the person suddenly says timidly.

"Ah, fucking, bitch, Limonov do not need? And who do you, Pidor, fucking, do you need? No, you are a horse, you need Limonov and you need to love your homeland kindly! This is your country, mutual, fucking ! This is your homeland! This is your people, fucking! You need to live, a bitch, in harmony with the outside world. An honest Russian man cannot spit shit on his homeland! Fucking is. You can relate to power, but you are everything, bitch, In addition to chasing power, you also scold the country forever. "This country", bitch. "This people", fucking. Not that country of you? Not that people you came across? Well, fuck you fuck you out! What? What are you silent? What are you silent? , are you a hassle of a hassle? Will you love Russia, I ask you? Or do not want to love Russia, do you want to eat shit? Answer! Will you love Russia or will you eat shit? ”

“I will love Russia,” the man answers quietly.

"What, fucking? I don’t hear, bitch. Louder, more confident!" - Black Yeltsin turns to a man ear.

"I will love Russia!" - with tears in his voice, a person says.

“Well, that's glorious,” Black Yeltsin answers. “Love Russia and do not fuck up. Look here.”

Then black Yeltsin rises from the chair and dissolves in the air. Outside the window begins the dawn. Birds are singing. It smells of an open window. The rising sun sprinkled the tops of birches in the yard.

It’s good to live in Russia. Love her.