[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.
[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. [Chorus, Polina Gagarin]: I wondering why I got out of bed at all. I can't see at all. And even if I could it'd be all gray It reminds me that it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad.
[Busta couplets]: My game over the years has become a super game. Passing beyond the level, became a superhero. Rostov-on-Don, multi-district Armageddon, I am far, but we are under the same sky with you my district.
The sun is sleeping behind the clouds - a pale yellow spot. We play the Beatles, we make muzlo. Once upon a time, on a bespontovy computer we did What others failed on & quot; Abbey Road & quot; in London.
Of course, it would be cooler with a bunch of dough, But a lucky chance made us start from scratch. A little work, or rather a lot of work. God willing, brother, there will be bread and water.
Alas, my poems are not written by old Beryl, And Patriarch Kirill will not read their people from the clergy. And Sasha Pushkin, in poetry - the measure of the measure, Can't appreciate my syllable, real or not real. Show them sister!
[Chorus, Polina Gagarin]: I wondering why I got out of bed at all. I can't see at all. And even if I could it'd be all gray It reminds me that it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad.