Текст песни Sim Salovim - Запад

Sand changed snow, hand squeezed thin brush
I painted the road to the house where everything fuck
out of thoughts displayed words under the hut bits
And I really wanted everyone to know Sim Sukinsyn not sad
The wind instant in the pipes would come off for sample
in rap, where minimum cache, with the hall, where the maximum fan
What's permeated with a pitchflow
When the Murasha breaks to the truth
Himself critic and fan in fenced walls
Himself plagiarism borrowing own timbre
I just got sharpened who is in fact
In places where entertainment sleep and black and white TV
When the first snow falls on the trails
I will finish the track for ha SE and spending dawn
slowly, I will call my relatives for business
In the memory of reviewing the road that led here

My thoughts, brother, in the sunset
Rows take on the fan
I remind southwest
Frames thrown into the beat

This is a fact, bro, the army of Ebala
To get tagged in the pass, you need to spin like Yula
Vota Fa, not delight in the meaning of the month in Opot
I put fatigue on my side, in the power of Kip IT RIL
no matter how bad, empty, hey in some places sad
not lowering the nose walked up the left garbage
Taking for Bodryag all that kipsh
leaving in a circle slag, reef staging, old south
I knew from the very beginning what the essence of the course
that the path is praised true and to me to taste
After all, when the bit was not heard, I jerked into the bit from the pulse
Having spoiled to the opinion of the skill for the alignment of art
Now I would smoke in a slow tobacco
stick into the released smoke for a loud cricket crack
not hastily view all photos cards with letters
And in silence to hear only the rook of the rain in the root.