У земляков

Do not spit into the sky , it is not a country of people fucked
People fuck the country , the working class ahue
Stolen , it's no longer Slavs
Falls off under the palm trees with bags , shoot them !
What the hell , where is the money ? Answer thick!
Want to return the bright days of the nineties ?
Just someone who does not know how to manage cabbage
Here , look, fellow eyes sad
Have a bad power, but nowhere to go
Next is Russia , and once they Bazaar
The women get married so to give birth, and then the crisis
And the more expensive gasoline Jam
Who are you , who am I not listen somehow
A razduplyatsya when the head will fly into the
Cock in the ass bite , the people will stand up and vduet
Foreigner bought power and admires , bitch
Gifts for dnyuhu grandchildren Come on, Uhnem
Do not give to seize
Kurkov word again , so will we fucked
Earn dough for ebla swine

I want to know who sold my country
All my brothers and stand pizdanut
One who is in the offices of playing a game with them
Fault that fellow eyes sad

Clock work , the planet rotates
Gray in the mouth give money Captive
With no one to share , know their face
Pulled from under the feet of resources if the syringe
I ridges cap, sit in ********
In headphones this one bit ,
Before the eyes of downtown
Panorama normally visible
Curve of the city, from the window kinoshka
I sad look , pull lybu
I sit, writing rhymes , the cabin is noisy
Quarter after quarter , the country on the brakes
Today, my countrymen sad eyes