Johnyboy - Не надо учить - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Bang!

Don't try to teach me!

No, don't try to teach me!

Hey! Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!

Don't try to teach me!

No, don't try to teach me!

Johnny-b-b-b-b-boy!

Old, old, old school!

Have you seen John's rap battles?

I used to ape the alt-rock style so hard,

They could've easily recruited me for Linkin Park!

My hormones are playing tricks on me—

So many skirts around, but I won't go near 'em.

'Cause there were always so many awkward chicks there—

To hell with all the broads who think they're brainy!

Screw the mathletes, the chemistry nerds, the biologists—

Just give me some sweet, fine babes instead!

Come on, boy! Man's not hot!

I'm no virgin, so I'm not gonna pull their pigtails.

They teach you in school, they teach you in school, they teach you in school...

They teach everyone in school how to make out in the corners;

How to get absolutely wasted, how to blow all your cash with the squad!

There's no place better than school!

Everyone's got a joint in their hand—look at those "bazooka arms."

Boy, I don't need your weed—my whole class smokes synthetic spice.

I haven't even made it to school yet to pay my respects to my homeroom teacher!

After all, I'm a pure humanities guy—haters can't find a single flaw!

"Odet" or "nadet"? I don't know—you tell me!

You'd be better off lying down in bed—'cause I choose to *undress* you.

I walk into your classroom, and everyone starts sweating—

They could finish a whole album, while I'd only need a third of a track.

The winds of change blow right in my face,

And those school "recesses" are gone now—all that's left is a rap beat. Remember that video where I looked just like a schoolkid?

Well, guess what—that was the rough draft for the track "The Last Bell"!

Don't subtract—multiply!

(Hey! Ah! Get it! Get it! Get it!

Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Don't subtract—multiply!

(Hey! Ah! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Add twenty to four!

(Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Add twenty to four!

It's the brand-new, brand-new, brand-new school—and for some reason, all the rappers here

Are dressed fashionably and expensively; everyone here wants to be a teacher.

Instead of final exams, there are albums; the after-school clubs are called "labels";

And I'm the punk in the back row smacking them upside the head with a ruler.

*The Flow* serves as the school newspaper;

Everyone here is flaunting their mug.

They barely managed to hand Johnnyboy his diploma—

But let me repeat: I graduated with a Gold Medal!

We're crafting beats, we're laying down hip-hop—

You don't get what I'm spittin'?

We're crafting beats, we're laying down hip-hop—

You don't get it? I'm annihilating this shit!

They teach you in school, they teach you in school, they teach you in school...

They teach you in school, they teach you in school, they teach you in school...

They teach everyone in school!

Walking in Gucci, getting into pussy;

Walking in Gucci, getting into pussy;

Walking in Gucci, getting into pussy—

The whole mighty gang!

So many whiners, so many pushovers. And so few leaders around here.

We're pulling heavy weight like we're powerlifters!

I vividly remember the bookworms—and those fucking academic Olympiads.

Their only way to ever get rich?

To swipe the PIN code off my bank card! I’m a nobody? That’s absolute nonsense!

I am everything to you—even if you just see me as some average clown-patient.

You can talk all the shit you want—claiming Johnnyboy is just some guy trailing at the back—

But you’d better bring a fire extinguisher to my next concert.

Don't subtract—multiply!

(Hey! Ah! Get it! Get it! Get it!

Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Don't subtract—multiply!

(Hey! Ah! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Add twenty to four

(Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!)

Add twenty to four.