Go away, my rap is more animalistic than Hanibal Lecter.
Yes, you like it. You drink it like a bee's nectar.
Poor amateur, listen to a professional.
You're stupid, like Miss Sophie's butler.
That's how you'll find us everywhere Advertising column.
âAnd if you don't like it, then there will be a clubâ
Hey, don't cry, otherwise your eyeshadow will run!
Unfortunately, you little one will die without it that we ever featured you.
Big bread with a new smash hit.
We'll crack you trash like a crash kid
Cars, just silent â Uuh!
You can't do anything, you have to watch.
Your father is the worm, you are just an appendix.
Listen, my vocabulary has wilder images than shortcuts.
There are always floodlights on on my sports field.
You probably think of me as the Sun King Ludwig.
I'm fresher than Mentos, I get bags of fan mail.
My rap is fat and yours is food combining.
Renz â R.E.N.Z.! Go to bed, mon ami, now masturbation.
Chorus:
Hello Hip Hop - hopefully you're feeling better,
because too many blackheads are making you stressed.
You're sending SOS , but in times of need, fat bread is your
lifeboat...
I take records and you for fun,
I express myself in music and you like a fag,
because you've gotten on my nerves and got on my nerves.
I'm so deficient, I rhyme merven with perven.
I never fit into drawers or when playing cards,
and now I'm leaving Get the fuck out, blow off steam and get the ship off the deck.
Solve all the cases quickly like Mrs Marple.
Wack Mc, come on my deck and see
Shipmaster and old from, because discover them, check out the Connecke like
St. Pauli and the neighborhood. My rhymes and the beats are a pair of lovers.
You can see it.
You may be the boss, but I'm the boss,
because my rhymes burn as hot as pepper.
I wallow in the Pool instead of like Littbarski in the mud.
Everything is cool because I rule like Starski and Hutch;
but today is not barrel night.
Schiffmeister has his hate-tach.
What You're rhyming is Asbach-Uralt, and Fettes Brot has caught you hopefully you're feeling better,
because too many blackheads are causing you stress.
You're sending an SOS, but in times of need, fat bread is your lifeboat...
So, here comes this King's singing passage.
I'm cool and park my bike in the underground car park.
I'm the man who represents the bread.
You want a fight? uh, uh! There isn't! Got it?
But you listen to our music and still feel defeated,
Rhyme, beat and bass â any other questions?
All complaints please go to the complaining corner.
Because I don't have time for that because I'm checking the rhymes.
You shout at me and insult me, but I don't care
because I'm paying for the bus again
in which you are sent home, a little sad and dejected.
Go practice and then try your luck again.
But pack up the children's keyboard and leave the violin in the box.
You say your beats are fat? I call it a seven-day fast!
You're gangsta but you're not.
You're just being silly, you piss face!
I don't care how hard you come - like steel or harder â
Because you are the weeds and I am the gardener.
KB-Baby, the little giant
and you'll have a crisis, dear one,
like Bertha Griese - meal!
Refrain:
Hello Hip Hop - hopefully you're feeling better,
because too many blackheads are causing you stress.
You're sending an SOS, but in In times of need, fat bread is your lifeboat...

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