The Cut

Evening gopota hang out at the nightclub,
As a tourist in an expensive hotel with a view of the lagoon.
Rap breeze when the wind blows, Bad Balance taxis.
Local tramp we carefully Park.
And something rubs us there for tinted windows.
The atmosphere is charged mutnoglazym his eye.
Look out of the frontal his cronies at the entrance,
Whatever punching view of who we are and where.
Signboard in neon, time - half past one.
Dim light sings at the broken fence.
We have released the engine and moved the party.
With smiles on their faces, as expected from the nobility.
Club pointer, but the wall in front of us.
Somewhere from the corner tightened their crowd.
And someone asked us: & quot; Entourage, where are you from? & Quot;
And we are not adequately respond to the word.

Boom checks bang, bang, bang.
If the bull rushing, always the first hit.
Boom checks blah crowd.
La la la, la, la la, la, la.

Heavenly patron skillfully changed the cut.
We chose a design and finished chatting with them.
& quot; Belomor & quot; lit, moved to the door.
Magazines are always on us to collate fashion.
Security guard did not check conducted eyes.
Administrator appeared and disappeared in the hall.
Club in the fog froze for a moment.
Gaze acquainted with the guests.
The heat, in Pattaya! Attention, waiter!
I want to drink all our troops.
We began at the start of the table of VIP database.
The girls go-go boxes placed along the road.
This world is beautiful, but everything changed at once,
When a fat bull our way threw the phrase:
& quot; This is our bitch! & quot; The fists clenched hands,
We're out of habit react to sounds.

Boom checks bang, bang, bang.
If the bull rushing, always the first hit.
Boom checks blah crowd.
La la la, la, la la, la, la.

Night was in full swing, the dust flying around.
Strong alcohol warms the body.
Music circled, a cappella singing.
Aggressive rhythm dispersed time.
The DJ was in the & quot; Ray Benah & quot ;, the audience danced.
We pobilis fun, they lay the crowd.
Nobody expected such a passionate intensity,
What local bulls were in collusion with the guards.
At dawn the street, we enjoyed a fairy tale.
Security appeared from the police station.
Earning often like us,
In the hands of each of them in gold boilers.
& quot; You come & quot ;. What? & quot; You do not understand, Bob? & quot;
A quiet evening, like the ocean, the mystery is beautiful.
The chief told us: & quot; Raise your hands! & Quot;
But we have a habit of responding to sounds.

Boom checks bang, bang, bang.
If the bull rushing, always the first hit.
Boom checks blah crowd.
La la la, la, la la, la, la.