Весел отец, на ладе мать Бухая дочь, в блевоте зять Жену сосед надрал на "штык" А ты - гостомельський шашлык! Ты обгорел, буз рук и ног На тебя с неба ссытся Бог Черви во рту, как рожке патроны А глаза вырвали вороны! А в своем замке лысый дед, У него лобстер на обед Две проститутки стелят шелк, Ты сдохнуть за него пошел! Хахахахахахахахха
@@ОлегСамковський просто высшее русское командование, по счастью, бездарное и тупое, в Гостомеле им нужна была взлетно-посадочная для по-настоящему массовой переправки войск бортами, но толи Пукин окончательно развалил структуру военно-транспортной авиации, толи главком хваленых ВДВ только и умеет, что траву красить вместо боевой подготовки, толи оленевод Кожугетов забоялся, что все борты собьют по дороге; короче, как в песне "подмога не пришла, нас тобою нае6али" 😁 Хули удивляться-то, когда во главе страны вертухай, а армией управляет бывший комсорг.
Все, кто напал на Украину в первые дни, в том числе и эти десантники, уже или уехали в пакетах в свою московию или лежат непогребенные где-то в полях Украины.
Ну и как? Точно не ушли? Ну да, им не дали. Все там и остались. Слава Украине! Вас сделали как детей. Понты дороже денег, ну и огребли. И будете огребать, пока всех не положим. :)
There are two turbans in the sighting bar, I pull the trigger - the PKM is silent, Doesn't pull up or tremble in your hands. They are running, they are very lucky, After all, this is necessary, as luck would have it, Perhaps Allah helped them now. No cartridges - and no fire, Now they will pin me to the ground, Not only me, there’s a platoon at the ditch. Cover them for at least five minutes, And there the helicopters will approach us, And it will be easier, easier, but for now... Chorus: I could shut their throats It's a pity, we've run out of 200 rounds belts The second number is crawling with ammo a hundred paces away. (come on, my brother) And he is being hunted It's like someone feels there That my pkm ran out of ammo. Crawl, brother, its ok, There is little left, well, still, I know how difficult it is now. When they hit you with precision, But if you are afraid, they will die Guys, who expect support from us. you got here, the tape is like a snake, Slides out of the duffel bag jingling, The cartridge is in the chamber, and the bolt is forward. And the gun sight looks at the village, Looking for my goal, And, like a living thing, the butt hits with recoil. Chorus: Now we will check Who has stronger nerves, (you will remember us) They probably forgot about me there. Now the work will begin, Jokes are bad with a machine gun, Those who don’t believe will see for themselves. Second walk for the helicopters The main landing party is approaching, The "Humpbacks" went into combat. And the bomb crumble fence into dust, Someone got up and ran In a robe and with a familiar turban. let Allah help them In a foreign country, in foreign mountains, I may not be a god, but my Pkm is a sorcerer. War is not a pleasure But if she is happening here, Then the death of the enemy is not blamed. Chorus: There are completely different standards here, Life is adjacent to death, Well, if you remained unharmed, - This is the best reward And we don't need anything else Even without an medal, it’s better to be alive. Two turbans flash again, In my gun sight, only to them Even Muhammad is unable to help. And the machine gun bursts from my hands, And they don't run anymore, Today we are lucky in life. The platoon commander waved his hand, It's time to move forward There is simply nowhere for us to retreat. Strong point, trenches, pillbox, Our airborne platoon is storming, Ordinary guys from paratroops. Chorus: You may not know, but know We fought in the landing force, Borderline - this is unknown to you. The usual work was going on From flight to flight, And the workplace was Afghanistan
