Vem si lasko s sebou do nebe pekne ubalenej tlustej joint,az ti Svatej Petr pripali don't Bogart, baby, don't,
don't Bogart, don't Bogart , yeah, Umburbuwabuwahatswaha,
don't Bogart, don't Bogart, yeah, malovana je truhla ma.
Uz me vita hvezdny reggae, modry blues a Bozi chor,
lasko, pribal Jamese Browna, feels like knockin on heavens door.
Rikali v raji bude vsechno, co jsi chtel a nemoh mit,
rikali - kup si - a marne doufali, ze budes z ty krvavy louze pit,
oo, Pane, to byly casy, kdyz don't Bogart tak don't Bogart,
jsem bohac a navysost drzy, malovana je truhla ma.
Uz me vita
Az se setmi prijdou pani a budou patrat kdo jsi byl,
kdesi v dalce vitr cechra kytky, cos tam zasadil.
Forty seven
Don't Bogart
