Текст песни эхо прокуренных подъездов - juninho

I am 40 years old and my son is the standard subtype
He rallied over the summer with a little brother aypadov
I heard no joy division, nor Varga
I never held the pliers in the hands of fucking
no booze with Turner feces in the reserved seat
shao kahn finishes Battle baccardi
and no, there is no one to appeal 'to achieve!'
tracker tears chiptyunovomu cardio
hello, how are you doing, jazz hip-hap?
cybernetics burps bogomerzky ladder
to cover the seed gently pokapyvaet
excites me smell prints
do not play ball with the guys on the box without manual,
coordinates the swing not find without a navigator.
you son ever bump against the children of Bator.

and you are no longer seen as Kanu
spikes with the standard Pernambucano

I am 60 and my son subtype mudilo
issyakshy mattress, but the residence / apartment
Province not quoted, drove off
because of the need to become a man
and type calf twice younger
as he was pretty, but under the skin
misery, and his children are now also
marafet on Ipad with skewed fingers
and bolt the past, the burden
I was in a scene from the movie 'bygone era'
I pour it into the throat of counterfeit vodka
and crucified, well, eh?
I am 60, and my son is like subtype is not my
phrases throat scratching, dumb if
Remember son will kill you in the transition
Metro stations in Northern Butovo

and you are no longer seen as Kanu
spikes with the standard Pernambucano