realizacia - в коконе - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Yes, I'm in a cocoon, and I will fly out by signal,

You hate bitches, but write that everything is not enough for you,

Up, up, up, all your hands,

Down pussy, take off my pants.

Zay, I see that you are a cocoon butterfly,

For a long time, my passion was excavated by me,

My view on your ass is just the beginning,

I will blow up any daughter, yes, I don’t give a damn about the child.

Enjoy the bitch, enjoy the torment!

You burn among these living corpses

You hug sharply, you acted rudely,

And so that you are caught fire, I do not need a magnifying glass.

To hell with degrees, you are a chariot today,

I control, and you are moving in the lower back

And among these butterflies your cocoon will fit,

Your face screams, as if you had eaten a monster.

Yes, I am in a cocoon, but frustrated your bitches, which, they say, is in fire,

Well, yes, I’m young and I don’t have an honor, but all that you say honestly, honestly, harm, brings those who believe that you are cool in a throw.

And I accidentally climbed into it here, and I don’t need flattery here, I am in the lies of special,

And you are as a spice that does not have a taste from which

I wash the rooms, thereby ending the garbage.

Your hands, like a tentacle of dangerous creatures,

You are the reason, tears of all abandoned brides,

You spend bitch money to become juicy fruit,

Mom thinks that the baby is young and immaculate.

She writes to me in WhatsAppe,

At this time, it wriggles on the Web Site,

This bitch loves when it is behind,

Servs customers on its Passate.

I suffocate at night, show me sadness

I wake up in the morning, where is your vile tea,

You are so relevant, there is even a price,

You are so with a fucker, SIZE is important to you!

You are the bitch that starts

The bitch that watches blogs,

You can’t wait for you, and you are on the threshold,

I looked at, after the first “road”.

It smells of a liquor, I take a strict for the curls,

On Saturday, we will tear ourselves for all weekdays,

I do not smoke, but as if I ate a cigar filter,

You are a half -development, bitch! SIT Down!

You are a half -development! Are you not enough?

Your Paul Poker thinks that you have your mother.

The hut is destroyed, as if by slal,

It's time to end you on ...

The evening smells of a bitch, I'm a perfumer here,

Your fragrance with menthol flows down the arm,

We do not understand why we sin near Disney,

But Freud rules us!