My tea's gone cold, I wondering why I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall.
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad.
[Куплеты Баста]:
Моя игра за эти годы стала супер игрой.
Проходя за уровнем уровень, стал собой супергерой.
Ростов-он-Дон, многорайонный Армагеддон,
Я далеко, но мы под одним небом с тобой мой район.
Солнце спит за облаками – бледно-жёлтое пятно.
Мы играем в «Битлов», делаем музло.
Когда-то давно, на беспонтовом компе мы сделали то,
Что другим не удалось на "Abbey Road" в Лондоне.
Конечно, было бы круче с кучей бабла,
Но счастливый случай заставил нас все начать с нуля.
Немного труда, вернее много труда.
Бог даст, брат, будет хлеб и вода.
Увы, мои стихи не пишет старина Берилл,
И с клира их народу не прочтет Патриарх Кирилл.
И Саша Пушкин, в поэзии - мерило из мерил,
Не сможет оценить мой слог, real или не real.
Покажи им сестра!
[Припев, Полина Гагарина]:
My tea's gone cold, I wondering why I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall.
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad.
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life.
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life.
[Финал, Баста]:
И пусть нас судит только родной район. My tea's gone cold, I wondering why I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'd all be gray, but your picture on my wall.
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad.
[Bast's Verses]:
My game has become a super game over the years.
Passing the level of the level, became a superhero.
Rostov-on-Don, multidistrict Armageddon,
I am far away, but we are under the same sky with you, my area.
The sun sleeps behind the clouds - a pale yellow spot.
We play the Beatles, we do music.
Once upon a time, on a bespontov computer, we did something
What others failed at Abbey Road in London.
Of course it would be cooler with a lot of dough
But luck made us start from scratch.
A little work, or rather a lot of work.
God willing, brother, there will be bread and water.
Alas, old Beryl does not write my poems,
And Patriarch Kirill will not read them from the clergy to the people.
And Sasha Pushkin, in poetry - a yardstick from the yardstick,
Will not be able to appreciate my syllable, real or not real.
Show them sister!
[Chorus, Polina Gagarina]:
My tea's gone cold, I wondering why I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'd all be gray, but your picture on my wall.
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad.
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life.
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life.
[Final, Basta]:
And let only our native district judge us. Смотрите также: | |
