It all started with a teenager's sense of light Because in his head he was smaller than a small child Five times he gave him the automatic eight-run Cigarettes out, cigarettes on Through the lungs, the last smoke First one, then two, then three Before school, after school, ey, everyone's there One chewing gum and perfumes hid the smoke But he was always there, who stood It shouldn't stay with the Cigos Paper and a filter should now immediately lead to level two So they rolled a bag with green flowers Thanks to this they already felt a little freer First one, then two grams But it shouldn't stay there Because that was child's stuff Because these children were not poor And their parents sponsored them day by day Ey, who would have guessed that First the Cigo, then the joint In the club, the coke My friend, parts and pieces Out of pure boredom, the heroin Hidden between the legs First the Cigo, then the joint In the club, the coke My friend, parts and pieces Out of pure boredom, the heroin Hidden between the legs At risk in a disco They met, I see, they didn't wait long Then she came with a handbag Said, boys, watch out, I've got something With this stuff and you, that all night We all did, made the stone small Packed the rest for later Through the nose, this is now even the third phase First one, then two And one of you said, I'll pull the longest line Back on the table, bitches But boredom keeps her going Parts and pieces, they made higher Push the stuff in, because they never get enough of it If they really wanted to fly One on Mafia does it right, let it crack So they made the next deal This time it was game number four The brown stuff you walk through the veins Lays the mud, if too much If too much First one, then two And one of you said, I'll pull the longest line Back on the table, bitches But boredom keeps her going Parts and pieces, they made higher Push the stuff in, because they never get enough of it If they really wanted to fly One on Mafia does it right, let it crack So they made the next deal This time it was game number four The brown stuff you walk through the veins Lays the mud, if too much If too much My friend, kicks and parts Out of pure boredom The hero, hides him between the legs First the ego, then the joint In the club, the sugar, him My friend, kicks and parts Out of pure boredom The hero, hides him between the legs