all personalities in me are misanthropic What kind of bitch is fiction in pairs of pizdabolas The opponents' words are fucking In your mouth until you vomit And your middle finger is a sign language, I put my own on the notes So much bile in people, Ears are treated stupidly, A lot of Women in clubs, burn them all, don't think Promises cut the ear, the truth is less bubdto The stomach is full of deception, flattery is fresh in the morning The power is in the prada, you say so, but you hung out in secret He doesn't drink much, but he's a drug addict, your friend will pay for a taxi home I was amazed, my heart was slowing down, but the bitch fucked me so beautifully Remember, for me to believe you, There must always be strength in the truth There is no trust in people, one exception is the family Not that they're fucking with someone, but they're deceiving themselves The ear itches like glass wool sticks (earwigs) So many noodles are already there that Ash has become hunchbacked But now let's talk about you, who are you? Show your haight - "You're on the sidelines, I'll take everyone out, and there's no fucking dispute" Are you going to fuck around here for fiction? But with the battles I see the author is poor Pisses in the description that ambitions are whipping , but for half a year not a single battle Bitch, what do you mean, for you I will be the first and the last I throw you creature on the bed, with brother Vantap we are animals in bed And, in his texts, trunks, kents, weapons, mixtures Are your bros on the wire? But there are kites And you can at least lie honestly, impose your truth along the way But as it is, you will not break yourself, you will be without a trough at all Here it is a fiction, and do not expect that you will be helped to climb the gang You have to believe in yourself and yourself, the fisherman won't tell you where the fish is