Lyrics (lyrics) Oxxxymiron - City under the sole. Lyrics of the song Oxxxymiron - The city under the sole Everything is now mc

Is it Don, is the Volga flowing - a knapsack on your shoulder,
Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn’t count
Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise.
We believe - you'll be lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment party.
The schemes are of the same type, everyone is now MC, after all,
Having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.
Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles,
I look in the mirror like, “You’ve caused so much trouble!”
I would enslave all the rap, but I'm always on the road,
The industry has a nervous tic - Valocordin is angina pectoris.
Convene a court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became people.
Don't fuck me, I'm putting it on you, servants, five times,
After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.

All my rap, in short, is about the fact that


I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.

Past poplars and fields of ripe grain,
Where is Yesenin’s ghost, the prayer cross, the oil.
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it,
We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singletons like puppies,
There was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchy, Ilya were more than family.
I made a bomb at night as hard as I could,
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.
The world is empty, at least get to know every second person,
I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member.
Spare me from your panaceas, homely Paracelsus,
After all, for me, fucking is an end in itself.
Tired - we don't give a damn, Tony Stark as a standard,
A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan,
Moscowabad. Passports from countries are in great demand.
Either along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar.

You know: all my rap, in short, is about the fact that
It's been a year and a city is underfoot.
Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.

City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is to the grotto or to the bottom,
You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole.

Let your strength not twist or break here; there is a route
And there is on the track locality, and they are waiting for us there today.
Whiner, don't be feminine
Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck.
Fuck asleep again, getting up before dark again,
Again the armored vehicle, again the road, a bag on my back.
Everything is hasty, if you don’t give a shit, it’s raining, it’s cloudy.
Bridge to Asgard, after that let him just be lucky with the transport.
I make each of my verses a self-portrait,
We often read the check, rapping like a speech therapist under stress.
Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching is like Mohammed and Baphomet to everyone.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood,
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, marked “good.”
They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” -
I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test.

Homie, know that my rap, in short, is about what
It's been a year and a city is underfoot.
Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole

City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is to the grotto or to the bottom,
You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole.

Is it the Don, is the Volga flowing? A knapsack - on the shoulder. Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key. How many more miles? The short flight didn’t count Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise We believe - we’ll be lucky, our beds are portable Minstrel - two ways: a corporate party or an apartment building The schemes are the same. Everyone is now MC After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here. Now rap is multi-party. Having spawned battles, I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?” I would enslave all of rap, but I'm always on the move The industry has a nervous tic, Valocordin is like angina pectoris Gather a court, but the winners are not judged We are the first Cro-Magnons - we have become a people Don't fuck around! I put it on you, servants, five times After all, we perform strongly, like the jaw of a pithecanthropus. All my rap, in short, is about the fact that for many years now, which city is under the sole Uphill when rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, I have - the city under the sole Past the poplars and ripe grain fields Where Yesenin’s ghosts, the cross, the prayer service, the oil From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it We will overcome everything, if not, then I’m not an Aquarius Our land drowns singles like puppies Was a stranger, but Ochre , Damage, Ilya - more than a family I composed a bomb at night as much as I could I so wanted to belong to something larger than me The world is empty, at least get to know every second person I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member AY! Spare me from your panaceas Home Paracelsus, because for me fucking is an end in itself Are you tired? We don't give a damn, Tony Stark as standard A couple of countries, highways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad Passports, the din of the stage, in great demand Whether on the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar (You know!) All my rap, in short, is about the fact that It’s been a year, which city is under the sole Uphill when rushing Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, at me - the city under the sole Give me strength here, do not turn and not break There is a route and there is a settlement on the highway And they are waiting for us today Whiner, don’t be feminine Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip in his deck Again the fuck is asleep, again the rise is before dark Again the armored car, the road again, the bag on my back Everything is in a hurry, there’s shit in the field, it’s raining, it’s cloudy The bridge to Asgard - after, let’s just be lucky with the transport I make each of my verses a self-portrait An hour to check, we rap like a speech therapist under a marathon Stencil on the parapets: logo on the wall everywhere My teaching - to everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet Am I a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood. Napkins to wipe your ass - and that’s it, mark “Good” They used to say “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test (Houmie, know!) My rap, if Briefly, about the fact that It's been a year and a city under the sole of the mountain, when it's rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick I’m not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole City under the sole, a city under the sole Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom You live under the heel, I have - city under the sole My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road My whole life, whole-whole, whole life Whole-whole, whole life on the road

Is it Don, is the Volga flowing - a knapsack on your shoulder,
Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count
It's a long, dusty comb, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise.

We believe - you'll be lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment party.
The schemes are of the same type - everyone is now MC,
After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.

Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles,
I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!”
I would enslave all the rap, but I'm always on the road,
The industry has a nervous tic - valocordin angina pectoris

Convene a court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became people.
Don't be a jerk, I'll lay it on you, servants, fivefold,
After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.

All my rap, in short, is about the fact that

I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.

Past poplars and fields of ripe grain,
Where is Yesenin’s ghost, prayer cross, oil
From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it
We will overcome everything, if not, then I'm not an Aquarius

Our land drowns singletons like puppies,
There was a stranger, but OXRA, Porchy, Ilya were more than family.
I made a bomb at night as hard as I could,
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me.

The world is empty, at least get to know every second person,
I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member.
Hey, spare me from your panaceas, homely Paracelsus,
After all, for me, fucking is an end in itself.

Tired - we don't give a damn, Tony Stark as a standard,
A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad.
Passports are in great demand there,
Either along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar!

You know: all my rap, in short, is about the fact that
It's been a year and a city is underfoot.
Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick,
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom,
You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole.

Let your strength not twist or break here; there is a route
And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today.
Whiner, don't be feminine
Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck.

Again the fuck is asleep, again it’s before dark,
Again the armored vehicle, again the road, a bag on my back.
Everything is in a hurry, the field is shitty, raining, cloudy
Bridge to Asgard, after that just let him get lucky with transport

I make each of my verses a self-portrait,
We often rap like a speech therapist under stress.
Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching is to everyone, like Mohammed and Baphomet.

I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood,
Napkins - wipe your ass, and that’s it, mark “good”.
They used to say: “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” -
I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test.

Homie, know: my rap, in short, is about the fact that
It's been a year and a city is underfoot.
Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick,
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom,
You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole Is Don, Volga flows there - knapsack on his shoulder,
Chest pain - there taynichok open crowbar, not the key.
How many more miles? The flight was short does not count,
The long, dusty Sanchez, a van full of boxes with merchandise.

We believe - lucky, our portable bed.
Minstrel two ways - corporate or apartment.
Schemes of the same type - are all now MC,
After all, species change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here.

Now rap multiparty Battle spawn,
I look in the mirror of the type "What troubles you bloat!"
I would whole rap enslaved, but the travel time,
In industry tic - valokordin stenokardiynym

Collect the court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we were beat out in people.
Do not bullshit me, I put to you, servants, five times,
After all, we stand strong, though the jaw of Pithecanthropus.

All my rap, if briefly, about the fact that

Past poplars and fields of ripe corn,
Where ghost Esenina Cross prayer, firs
From the van I see the ground, I see the sky above it
We will overcome everything, if not, then I do not smoke detector

Our land is drowning singles like puppies,
He was a stranger, but the guards, Porchy, Ilya - more than the family.
The bomb was composed at night, that is urine stuffed,
I wanted to belong to something larger than myself.

The world is empty, even made friends with every second,
I do not biorobot with positive lyboy Komsomolets.
Hey, save me from your panacea, home Paracelsus,
After all, for me ebashit - an end in itself.

Tired - we do not care, Tony Stark as standard,
Couple country highway Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moskvabad.
Passports - there is great demand Estrada,
Though on the Ring Road at the start, even though Madagascar!

You know: my whole rap, if briefly, about the fact that
Already that year that city under the sole.
In the mountain when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I"m not that Gulliver, but still under the sole city.
City under the sole city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state taxes, fees and customs.
I don't know, wade or on the bottom of the track,
You live under the heel, I have a city under the sole.

Let's not silently collapse and break; there is a route
And there on the track location and waiting for us out there today.
Whiner, don't be feminine,
Ruslan deck in the soundtracks to travel.

Again eblo sleepy again rise before dark,
Again Armor again the road, behind the bag.
All hastily, in the shit, rain, overcast
Bridge to Asgard, albeit after a lucky transport

I do every verse of his self-portrait,
Often h-rap as a speech therapist at marafet.
Stencil on the parapets, the logo on the wall,
Everywhere my teaching everyone how to Mohammed Baphomet.

Am I a star? Give a warm blanket and a hood,
Napkins - wipe your ass, that"s all, the mark "good".
They used to say: "I would be with him in intelligence did not go" -
I"m with you on tour did not go, you did not pass inspection.

Homie, know this: my rap, if briefly, about the fact that
Already that year that city under the sole.
In the mountain when rushing, then downhill, when sick,
I"m not that Gulliver, but still under the sole city.
City under the sole city under the sole,
Traffic lights, state taxes, fees and customs.
I don't know, wade or on the bottom of the track,
You live under the heel, I have a city under the sole

Is it the Don, is the Volga flowing? Knapsack - on the shoulder.
Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key.
How many more miles? The short flight didn't count.
Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise.
We believe you will be lucky, our beds are portable.
There are two ways for a minstrel: a corporate party or an apartment party.
The schemes are of the same type. Everyone is MC now.
After all, having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here,
Now rap is multi-party. Having produced battles,
I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!?”
I would enslave all rap, but I’m always on the road.
The industry has a nervous tic, Valocordin has angina.
Convene a court, but the winners are not judged.
We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became human.
Don't fuck around! I put it on you, servants, five times,
After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus.

Past poplars and fields of ripe grain,
Where are Yesenin’s ghosts, the cross, the prayer service, the oil.
From the minivan I can see the earth, I can see the sky above it.
We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius.
Our land drowns singletons like puppies.
There was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchi, Ilya were more than family.
He made a bomb at night as hard as he could.
I so wanted to belong to something bigger than myself.
The world is empty, at least get to know every second one.
I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member.
Hey! Spare me your panaceas.
Homemade Paracelsus, because for me, fucking is an end in itself.
Tired? We don't give a shit, Tony Stark, as standard.
A couple of countries, highways. Krasnodar, Tatarstan, Moscowabad.
Passports, the din of the stage, in great demand.
Either on the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or on Madagascar. (You know!)

All my rap, in short, is about the fact that
What a year, what a city is under the sole.
Uphill when rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom.
You live under your heel, I have a city under my sole.

Give me strength not to twist and break here.
There is a route and there is a settlement on the route,
And they are waiting for us there today. Whiner, don't be feminine.
Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck.
Again the fuck was asleep, again we got up before dark.
Again the armored man, again the road, the bag on his back.
Everything is in a hurry, the field is shitty, raining, cloudy.
Bridge to Asgard - after that, just let him be lucky with the transport.
I make each of my verses a self-portrait.
An hour to check, rapping like a speech therapist under a marathon.
Stencil on the parapets: the logo is on the wall everywhere.
My teaching is for everyone, like Magomed and Baphomet.
I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood,
Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “Good.”
They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him.”
I didn’t go on tour with you - you didn’t pass the test. (Houmie know!)

All my rap, in short, is about the fact that
What a year, what a city is under the sole.
Uphill when rushing. Then downhill, when you feel sick.
I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole.
City under the sole, city under the sole.
Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs.
I don’t know whether this path is fordable or to the bottom.
You live under your heel, I have a city under my sole.

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A#m Is it Don, is the Volga flowing - a knapsack on your shoulder, A#m Pain in the chest - there is a secret place, opened with a crowbar, not with a key. F# How many more miles, the short flight didn’t count, F# Long dusty scratching, the van is filled with boxes of merchandise. A#m We believe you will be lucky, our beds are portable. A#m There are two ways for a minstrel - a corporate party or an apartment party. F# The schemes are of the same type, everyone is now MC, after all, F# Having given birth to a change, we have achieved a paradigm shift here. A#m Now rap is multi-party, having spawned battles, A#m I look in the mirror like, “How much trouble have you caused!” F# I would enslave all the rap, but I'm always on the road, F# The industry has a nervous tic - valocordin angina pectoris A#m Convene a court, but the winners are not judged. A#m We are the first Cro-Magnons - we became human. F# Don't be a jerk, I'll lay it on you, servants, fivefold, F# After all, we protrude strongly, like the jaw of a Pithecanthropus. A#m All my rap, in short, is about the fact that A#m F# F# A#m A#m F# F# A#m Past poplars and fields of ripe grain, A#m Where is Yesenin’s ghost, the cross, the prayer service, the oil. F# From the minivan I see the earth, I see the sky above it. F# We will overcome everything, if not, then I am not an Aquarius. A#m Our land drowns singletons like puppies, A#m There was a stranger, but Ocher, Porchi, Ilya were more than family. F# I made a bomb at night as hard as I could, F# I so wanted to belong to something bigger than me. A#m The world is empty, at least get to know every second person, A#m I am not a biorobot with the positive smile of a Komsomol member. F# Ehh...Spare me from your panaceas, homely Paracelsus, F# After all, for me, fucking is an end in itself. A#m Tired - we don't give a damn, Tony Stark as a standard, A#m A couple of countries, highways: Krasnodar, Tatarstan, F# Moscowabad. Passports are in great demand on our stage, F# Either along the Moscow Ring Road to the start, or to Madagascar. A#m You know, all my rap, in short, is about the fact that A#m It's been a year and a city is underfoot. F# Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom, F# You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole. A#m Give me strength not to twist and break here. There is a route A#m And there is a settlement on the highway, and they are waiting for us there today. F# Whiner, don't be feminine F# Ruslan has soundtracks for the trip on his deck. A#m Again the fuck is asleep, again it’s before dark, A#m Again the armored vehicle, again the road, a bag on my back. F# Everything is hasty, if you don’t give a shit, it’s raining, it’s cloudy. F# Bridge to Asgard after, just let him be lucky with the transport. A#m I make each of my verses a self-portrait, A#m Often check, we rap like a speech therapist under stress. F# Stencil on the parapets, logo on the wall, F# Everywhere my teaching is like Mohammed and Baphomet to everyone. A#m I am a star? Give me a warm blanket and a hood, A#m Wipe your ass with napkins - and that’s it, mark “good.” F# They used to say, “I wouldn’t go on reconnaissance with him” - F# I didn’t go on tour with you, you didn’t pass the test. A#m Homie, know that my rap, in short, is about what A#m It's been a year and a city is underfoot. F# Uphill when you're rushing, then downhill when you feel sick, F# I'm not like Gulliver, but still a city under the sole. A#m City under the sole, city under the sole, A#m Traffic lights, state duties, fees and customs. F# I don’t know whether this path is ford or to the bottom, F# You live under your thumb, I have the city under my sole