(Elkaa)
(Jo Jo Beats)

Sitting in the RS like a bag full of poison
Mom wants her son back
Are on the street, yes, oh-oh-oh
Mom makes Dua, the devil is near us
Commit sin every day
On the street, yes, oh-oh-oh

Back then it was cold outside, but pockets empty
Today the pockets are full, but one wants more
Back then the detectives were nice, yes, we had nothing
Today the detectives want to screw us, we are rich
Back then mom couldn't even speak a word of German
Today her son buys his brother a Rolls-Royce
Today we're doing well, but brother, we commit sin
Everyone from my yard is now a dealer (dealer)

Dealer
Uncles storm into my building
Brother, we make cash not like before
I only send my songs to my girl via Threema
Push on the eighth floor
Everyone here smokes Baba Ot
I'm on the street
Stay young like Karel Gott (ah)

Uncles storm my building, full-automatic Silah
Too much sin, many torn pages in my Kitap
Three friends, all typing, ah, a hundred and twenty chats open

Small phones, big dreams, three tours, six weeks
Valet parking, Phantom, pump "Zana Û Andok"
Hundred grand in cash in my egg carton
Frankfurt, Barça, ten minutes before landing
Hold the iPhone to my ear, hear the master of my album

Sitting in the RS like a bag full of poison
Mom wants her son back
Are on the street, yes, oh-oh-oh
Mom makes Dua, the devil is near us
Commit sin every day
On the street, yes, oh-oh-oh

Dealer
Uncles storm into my building
Brother, we make cash not like before
I only send my songs to my girl via Threema
Push on the eighth floor
Everyone here smokes Baba Ot
I'm on the street
Stay young like Karel Gott

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