Jugo 45 - Zabranjeno pušenje

Kažu da su čuda svijeta

Piramide afričke

Kažu da su čuda svijeta

Velike rijeke Indije

Al' nijedno čudo nije bilo

Ravno onome

Kad je stari uparkir’o

U bašću Jugu 45

Skupio se sav komšiluk

I pola rodbine

Ono pola nije moglo

Nije moglo od muke

Stara napravila mezu

Ispekla 'urmašice

Stari otiš'o u granap

Po još logistike

Bilo je to dobro vrijeme

Sve na kredit, sve za raju, jarane

U auto naspi čorbe

Pa u Trst po farmerke

Bilo je to dobro vrijeme

Te na izlet, te malo na more

U kući puno smijeha

U bašći Jugo 45

Vozio ga čika Franjo

Da proda jabuke

Vozio komšija Momo

Da mu zenu porode

Vozio ga dajdža Mirso

Kad je iš'o u kurvaluke

Vozio ga malo I ja

Kad bi mazn’o ključeve

Virio sam jedno veče

Iz bašće čuo glasove

Momo, Franjo, dajdža Mirso

Nešto tiho govore

Onda pružiše si ruke

Na komšiju se ne može

Onda popiše po jednu I razguliše

Izgledao je baš mali to veče

Naš Jugo 45

Pobjegli smo jednog jutra

S dvije kese najlonske

Prvo malo Lenjinovom

Pa preko Ljubljanske

Danas nam je mnogo bolje

Novi grad I novi stan

Stari nam je postao fora

Kantonalni ministar

Ali meni je u glavi

Uvijek ista slika, isti fleš

Stara kuća, mala bascća

I u njoj Jugo 45…

They say they are wonders of the world

The Pyramids of Africa

They say they are wonders of the world

The great rivers of India

But there was no miracle

Straight to that

When the old man parked

In the garden of the South 45

The whole neighborhood gathered

And half the relatives

That half couldn't

He couldn't help it

The old woman made mezu

She baked urmašice

The old man went to the granap

For more logistics

It was a good time

All on credit, all for heaven, buddy

He poured soup into the car

Well in Trieste for jeans

It was a good time

You on a trip, you a little on the sea

Lots of laughter in the house

In the garden of Jugo 45

Uncle Franjo drove it

To sell apples

Neighbor Momo drove

To give birth to his wife

It was driven by Uncle Mirso

When he went to the whores

I drove it a little too

If only he could steal the keys

I peeked one night

He heard voices from the garden

Momo, Franjo, Uncle Mirso

They say something quietly

Then he held out his hands

You can't attack a neighbor

Then he wrote down one by one and undressed

He looked really small that night

Our South 45

We escaped one morning

With two nylon bags

First, a little Lenin's

Well, across Ljubljana

We are much better today

New town and new apartment

The old man has become cool to us

Cantonal Minister

But it's in my head

Always the same picture, the same flash

Old house, little garden

And in it Jugo 45…