Maalt - Küberünnak & Karmo

Üks lenksul, teine pakikal

Tasakaal on napikas, külavahe praktika

Pakipiim, leib, sai, ema papiga

Ülejäänud taskusse, see on minu taktika

Sätin traksipükse, nina tatine

Kommipaki klapime, pakiraamile maki me

Teibiga kinni lapime, kommid ei klapi

Arvult, neid pakul natuke hakime

Palju etem kui prillid ja mingi 3D

Palju etem kui Wi-Fi või mingi 3G

Ei taha mängida toas, mul kõik on kombes

Sest palju parema paugu äädikapomm teeb

Tule kampa, see pole mingi Kvartal, nagla

Säärevärinal kalale, kett rattalt maha

Külm Fanta karastab, pole karta vaja

Ba-ba-barankasid krõbistame koos tankla taga

Läbi puuriida piiluvad päikesepiisad

Väikesed liivased jalad, säravad väikesed silmad

Kiidame kliimat ka talvel, kui väljas kiilakad pinnad

Piisavalt viisakas riie, siis on ka viisakad ilmad

Põllutee, põllul põllumees

Belarussi uksel väikse õlle teeb

Magus vihm end peidab õlekõrre sees

Märja sõrmega saan tuule sõrmele

Kolm meest, on tolm teel

Taga jälitab kui pikk rong see

Loksub kokukas ja praksub tigu, põige

Hüppab konn ees

Ma loobin järve ääres lutsu, ropult seal kalu liigub

Õhtuti hilja, hommikul vara sammud niidul

Kohtume bandega mingil vanal talu kiigul

Mu kokukas lahedam kui su tasakaaluliikur

Peenra vahel porgandid, kapsas, hoolikalt napsan

Vaarikaid, vanaema vaaritab vapralt, valged klaarid ja mahlad

Kasest, vahtrast tikatud lõunaks toobki

Jumal tänatud, õhtul saab õunakooki

Peale ei joo pakist, sest udar punglil on piimast

Liitri võtan sahvrist ja purgist urgitsen viimast

Vanaisa aina kiidab, et piimavuntsid on priimad

Nüüd leiva lasen luusse ning pärast lähen ja niidan

Muidu olen rõõmus, aga sauna lähen vihaga

Pole väga vegan, lauda vaja ikka liha ka

Rohkem ma ei räägi, siia loosse ainult lisaks ma

Et maal on väga kena, laulda tahaks täie kisaga

Põllutee, põllul põllumees

Belarussi uksel väikse õlle teeb

Magus vihm end peidab õlekõrre sees

Märja sõrmega saan tuule sõrmele

Kolm meest, on tolm teel

Taga jälitab kui pikk rong see

Loksub kokukas ja praksub tigu, põige

Hüppab konn ees

Viskan pikali, pikuti pikal niidul

Kas teeme hookus pookus ja kokukal pikad tiirud?

Pakist võtan tiku, kuid vahel ka võtan mitu

Tuli pliidi alla tikub ja puhtaks ma tõmban kikud

Kopsus puhas õhk ja kopsikus puhas vesi

Hoobilt sopsu loobin korvile, hoovis koristan, rehin

Poris lobistan, tellin moosipontsikuid neli

Nosin oblikaid seni, kui sääsepunne mul enim

Näpuotstel villid ja peenral on pikad tillid

Kuigi piinlen saunas, siis tiigis ma pigem chillin

Vesi otse allikast, põlluveerel üks rallikas

Maalit, kes külas tallinnast, heinapallil ma kallistan

Põllutee, põllul põllumees

Belarussi uksel väikse õlle teeb

Magus vihm end peidab õlekõrre sees

Märja sõrmega saan tuule sõrmele

Kolm meest, on tolm teel

Taga jälitab kui pikk rong see

Loksub kokukas ja praksub tigu, põige

Hüppab konn ees

One on the handlebar, the other on the bag

The balance is scarce, the practice between villages

Parcel milk, bread, bread, mother's cardboard

For the rest of your pocket, that's my tactic

I adjusted the braces, nose tatine

We fold a pack of candy, we put it on the luggage rack

We stick with tape, the candy doesn't stick

In number, we chopped them a bit

Much further than glasses and some 3D

Much further than Wi-Fi or some kind of 3G

I don't want to play in the room, I'm fine

Because a much better bang vinegar bomb makes

Come on, it's not a Quarter, nail

Shaking fish, chain off the wheel

Cold Fanta hardens, there is no need to be afraid

We crunch the ba-ba-barankas together behind the gas station

Sunbeams peek through the cage

Small sandy feet, shiny small eyes

We also praise the climate in winter, when there are bald surfaces outside

Sufficiently polite fabric, then also polite weather

Farm road, farmer in the field

Makes a small beer at the door of Belarus

The sweet rain hides inside the straw

I get the wind on my finger with my wet finger

Three men, the dust is on its way

The chase behind it is like a long train

The snail shakes and practices snails, cuts

The frog jumps in front of you

I'm throwing a lutra by the lake, the fish are moving there

Late in the evening, early in the morning steps in the meadow

We meet gangs on an old farm swing

My cook is cooler than your balancer

Between the beds of carrots, cabbage, carefully snap

Raspberries, grandmother bravely grits, white clears and juices

Bred from birch, maple for lunch

Thank God you'll get an apple pie in the evening

Don't drink from the pack, because the udder in the bun is made of milk

I take a liter from the pantry and dig the last one out of the jar

Grandpa always praises that milk mustaches are good

Now I put the bread in the bone and after that I go and mow

Otherwise I'm happy, but I'm going to the sauna with anger

Not very vegan, the table still needs meat too

I'm not talking anymore, I'm just adding to this story

That the country is very nice, I would like to sing with full shout

Farm road, farmer in the field

Makes a small beer at the door of Belarus

The sweet rain hides inside the straw

I get the wind on my finger with my wet finger

Three men, the dust is on its way

The chase behind it is like a long train

The snail shakes and practices snails, cuts

The frog jumps in front of you

I throw down, long on a long meadow

Do we make hookus pookus and kokual long circles?

I take a match from the pack, but sometimes I also take several

The fire is under the stove and I'll clean it up

Clean air in the lungs and clean water in the lungs

I threw the bag in the yard, cleaned it in the yard

In the mud, I'm ordering four jam jars

I raised my obliques as long as I had the most mosquito bites

There are blisters on the fingertips and long dill on the bed

Although I suffer in the sauna, I tend to chill in the pond

Water directly from the source, one rally on the field

I cherish the painting of a village from Tallinn on a hay ball

Farm road, farmer in the field

Makes a small beer at the door of Belarus

The sweet rain hides inside the straw

I get the wind on my finger with my wet finger

Three men, the dust is on its way

The chase behind it is like a long train

The snail shakes and practices snails, cuts

The frog jumps in front of you