НепрОстой - Чуйка - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Ready for anything, my tongue tied tightly, yes, I'm full of energy, my head is empty, my soul is pure, and so that no one can embarrass me, I visit places.

Somewhere there I composed my first verse, chopping off part of my tail, so that no one will hold me accountable later, for that tasty morsel and for that lying filth.

One hundred out of a hundred, a guardian angel followed me, the main thing was twisting my head, because in life, they themselves will put everything in its place.

Movement was scarce, I had to wipe everything out of the old bush, to find out whether it wasn't the blizzards that led me away from the golden ratio of the ladies on the page.

"Trust but verify" was the saying for a reason. You shouldn't pick apples from one place, where the dough isn't yours by nature and not yours.

Maybe I'm not welcome here, and maybe I don't belong here.

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT????

I know I'll return again, to all the places I've walked, I wasn't dropped, Where you most often dove like a fish.

Recognizing myself, I realized I'm not here because of the bridge's construction, What we composed back then was just a lyrical cyst that had appeared.

They told me from above that I shouldn't blame everyone. After thinking about it, I printed part of the canvas on my leg. I answer.

No matter how many times you threw, The stones never reached my back, My word for the truth sometimes covered other people's lips with dust.

My head is often empty, I'm driven by basic simplicity. You traded your friends for ladies, I realized I was wrong to climb out of my nest.

I won't give up even if everything goes to the bottom, like a drop of dew from a leaf, A stick sometimes shoots, Staring into the abyss, I tear off masks until my face crunches.

Now Even the howl of wolves doesn't frighten me, and I'll never give up my instincts, like a throne from my beloved chair, setting my dogs on fire, ready to strike them down, planting them on the twisting lines of my dick.

Firing a double-barreled shotgun from behind a bush, I'll blow a couple of heads apart, a body to the side. Fate has brought me this mess, like something from a dream, I sit and wait, no matter where the thicket comes from.

I've been changing my plans since childhood for a reason. I've stumbled upon rakes without changing my craft. Even though I'm drunk and a little guilty, I'm dotting the I's of my future mastery.