Oxxxymiron Vs Крип-а-крип - 3 раунда - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

one

Than to touch me better than a jigging look

Forget the word bream. Dude, we are both wood

You will hear a new track of the Jew: he is squealing something again

This anticholocost and goy will become ash in the furnace

This is the first.

Second:

Dude said about gays ... Gay rabble

This is a full foul

I don't give a shit about gays so much that I'm not even homophobic

I cut the bloodstress, shoot with the words like a robocop

You are also not gay, but in the rap game you have a hugo full of mouth

Yes, everyone has different tastes: someone likes the snub-haired Barbie,

I am short -haired lesbot chicks, you have long -haired guys

On that very day, a comrade restaurateur called me in the morning

And he says: Krip did not learn his text on the battles,

He hugged and forgot the campaign all the words there,

He asks to transfer everything. Well, you are a fucked innovator!

That's why there is no respect for you

Your attitude to the game

Not more sporty than our physique with you

You are wrong, skinny

You are not Pac for sure

You will distort the Russian language

In the manner of Afro-Brooklyn jiz

Supply for the Kupchinsky style. Don't fuck, it's just easier to read

Sorry. Don't throw yourself. He is here to reach the ring. Tyson.

I am here to see a unique hybrid of a dried pig and a Chinese

Crype-A-Crype. Wheezing a-chryp. Frick A-Frick.

With drugs he is on you. Splif-A-splif. AIDS-A-SPID. TRIP-ARIP.

Chorosit on the network-twituan-a-Twit. Bif-A-Bif. Scream-a-click.

In life timid and quiet. Jump to the ring - You died. Rip-A-Rip.

How insulting and sorry they. Those who are like a respect at the battle are stacked,

But it is painfully naive for the feints with the ears

He could become a legend and be on the tablets,

But he is forever smoked, forever rhyme. It interferes hard.

No seriously. Gleb has long passed the brains in the back.

Everything that he sees on the move rhymes, and then hesizes, for example:

Mother, with a migraine, is sick from her son's rap, decided to buy her a little pills. So be it, he enters the pharmacy:

-Eyuu! My name is crypt-A-Crype. I am sick with this shit, Maine. I have a flu-a-grip. Niga, pliz, not Tomi. I need vitamin, ketamine, ritalin, glycerin, tetrogitrohydrochloride alcohol and fish oil.

Like a crowd you don't please, the ball of the judges is multiplying,

But she is cold, as if they were floating in a cold with walruses.

What he sowed, he shook, you will be ruined by crop failure.

They respect me not loving, they love you without respect.

You are a stubborn fox. He fell fucked down the floor

While his friend and I fucked at Hardcore at home

Rustle and squeal, sweat, blood and tears, Call a Police

She smells my testeron. I am a monopolist.

Bryayayak!

2

Before Batla, he set a condition to me.

As I imagine, so it takes to evil.

"Only the mother is not offended!"

I confess, I gave him a word,

And since I gave him a word,

Then about the mother of the bad I

I will not say, although for mothers I am still Casanova.

Your mother is a beautiful woman!

Without her, he is an ass.

She is a gorgeous clothing!

Behind the Trushop counter.

No, seriously, she is the mistress of Trushop

To give the shins with linen, there was plenty even to Gleb, so that the remnants of the pipes were dumbfounded, Fubu, Ecko well, no, buy, do not be a blatness.

Your mother G. The Yamais would say: "True shotta"

Her words: "Son, you would have brought yourself a girl."

Mother at work, son in shit shines at Angry Birds,

And there would be my father a successful salesman,

I would read on the internet that Oxxxymiron Major.

In short, the mother of prosperity and lively grandchildren.

But I will say after you. Your chick is a whore!

I have the right to say this:

We ourselves saw on Twitter all epithets. Cril was offended

How Pun in the Middle of Little Italy

Who fired this video. MTV, not Vimeo,

However, I was distracted. We are talking about shouts and mimimi him.

I would be her, if I were you, in the basement imprisoned,

The funnel pulled out the dagger, imprisoned,

Suku would have killed, freshened, sharpen,

The bones would be in the trunk, the wheelbarrow was overcast and outweighed the numbers, your loss is not visible because of the tapping ...

But what about our hero? The campaign took her back.

Shouted that the fucking, then love-carrot, her eyes

And there mom will call, so run to the call.

After all, you always run away on time. The sins of the fathers

His album calls "red heat",

But the red heat is one: where was Schwarznege