Текст песни Л. Корнилов - Мерседес 600

A baby in a bright stroller
Like honey in a honeycomb
Crushed by a foreign car -
Mercedes six hundred.
And in the cabin it swayed a little
To lift the mood,
Yes, I waved a little higher
Backseat priestess.

The night has come. And so,
Like a shot in the mouth
The nerves of the streets are tearing
Mercedes-600.

Mercedes of the nineties -
As in the forties -
Messerschmitts ... "Drang nach Osten" ...
Bombs - scrap prices.
Mercedes, he's the same messer
Only instead of wings - rays.
It contains a bandit with a banker, -
Therefore, all the banks are taken.

The night has come. And so,
Accelerating the pace
Russia takes on pont
Mercedes-600.

Naked ass at the nightclub
Like the sun for the sleeping
They die near Bamut.
Summer cottages are being built near Moscow.
Honor and conscience - from "Playboy".
From politicians - venality.
Selling means you understand
Its plebeian importance.

The night has come. And so
Of myself as masters
Every rabble is twisting -
Mercedes-600.

Mercedes-Messerschmitts.
The bandits are driving.
New Russian elite:
Instead of foreheads - shaved heads.
Where are the talents? Where are the poets?
Nobody opens the stars.
Thieves' authority
The announcer calls the bastard.

The night has come. And so
Another shot in the mouth.
Again the claws are tearing
Mercedes-600.

Murderer Journals
Awarded the title of "killer"
Pahana of the criminal group
Praised in the press - "leader".
Mercedes-Messerschmitts.
Only bandits were driving.
Narrow-minded elite.
And the cops are instead of the retinue.

The night has come. And so
Another shot in the mouth.
On order will kill
Mercedes-600.

Businessmen are like sex workers
They lick the heels of racketeers.
You deceive, six hundred,
For pockets and apartments.
I'm with such an excellent bastard
I will not drive away on the roads.
To slow down, finger, it is necessary,
If I rested my horn.

The night is coming to naught.
And the hood is in the hood.
And sweats
Mercedes-600.

Don't look at my arms.
There is not an ounce of a musician in them:
Unkulled fingers
Self-taught duelist.
I am disassembled from the blow:
They don't know - to be rich.
But the fragments of their ribs
I plunge the Mercy into the stingrays.

The night is over. And so,
Like a bullet in your mouth
Swallowed the hood
Mercedes-600.