Yeah

Okay, enough of Botox and G-classes
Enough of moms who diet all year round
Let's get to the point, it's like "Man calls in the forest"
Niko is going to school soon, I can't let it go
Meet me at Bar Centrale, I'm decorated like a cathedral
When is my album coming? I know you're all waiting
Germany can't handle my attitude
I fuck hard, sleep peacefully, eat well, that's the mood
I'm smooth, like pistachio cream
I feel like this horse on the Ferrari emblem
Here in southern Germany we lace Forces, race Porsches
Front spoiler lower than Jaysus' advance
It's normal, you get attacked when you have the ball
For the first fool, I don't even need half a sentence
Easy like Sunday morn', it's in my nature
Tell the sons of bitches: "Blitz attack, thunderstorm"
In your prime you're at most at your flower sex
I'm in my prime, bitch, it's a spring festival
If not Bucherer, then Wempe or Rüschenbeck
God knows, I spoil the fat ass on my ironing board
Quarter million on my wrist on weekdays
Do you know what that means, bro? We will never get along
Felix Blume thinks he's in his prime
Who do you want to threaten in your costume rental outfit?
You Canada-German
Next to Scott Storch you looked like a Ballermann drinker
I'm drippy, like John the Baptist
As if I just came out of the holy water
Twenty years of rap and I don't even have a scratch
You can find me on the rooftop of the Mandarin
I have balls, as if I came from your mentoring
Ah, you can't get Pateks, not Birkin Bags
Book you Funny Promo-Clown for Pablo's Birthday-Bash
Look at my jewelry, how it sparkles
You trembled in Munich like a pussy
Ain't shit changed, I give you nicknames
Like the asylum seeker who fucked your mother back then

Free Shindy, free Spirit
I fuck your mother, Kolle, deal with it
Your mom is a foreigner whore
And her son looks like the Versace mannequin
Yes, boss, I'm just like your eyeliner
Every day hustling, like Zemine with the feet pics
Go, baby girl, get this OnlyFans money
Cent'anni, strip for me, dance for me
You think you're Neo in the Matrix
I know the video where Paul breaks your arm
You had tears in your watery eyes
Come on, I'll fuck you in my Jordans from the last millennium
Compared to your numbers, my numbers look like Latin pop
I give this fat pig Frederic a real job
I sit in the back right in the Maybach-Benz
Your ghostwriters are all my diehard fans
You have ten ghostwriters, I don't need one to help me
I'm smooth like the freshly waxed legs of a MILF
I'm G.O.A.T. like Jigga, until I fade to black
You hang like a little bitch on your Facetune app
You turn your pictures until you think you're cute
I let the pants hang, as if it was an episode of Clueless
Psalm 23 and I have no fear
You've been hanging on my dick for six years now
A bit like the bitches with the V.I.P. wristbands
You are internet Insta hoes, you love the attention
Look at your numbers, I don't need your support
Oh, who would have thought? I take it unsporting
My weed hits me as hard as your midlife crisis
Look at you, you're on some Hitler type shit
Yes, I write this shit myself like Friedrich Schiller
Yes, I set the bitch on fire like Bushido's villa
You stand at the LIDL checkout, you normal consumer
Dressed like the staff from the hardware store
Frederic, you fat bastard, clean the car
Everyone knows, I'm a superstar like Adenauer
I'm currently endangering various businesses
Kollegah would love to be as narcissistic as me
You fantasy player, I set trends, you run after them
You stand on shaky legs, like Fler's pension
Farid asks his mom for a paternity test
Because he came into the world and his father was gone
Obviously you all have a father complex
It's easy, I'm just your father from now on
Go pick a rose for daddy
Oh my god, I'm even cheekier without a back
Bling-bling makes the diamond necklace
Jesus-Piece is bigger than Kollegah's attack surface
Don't you know? I don't squash any beef
You'll suck my dick before you slap me
Then you'll find me a rhyme for "cello"
I'm turning thirty-five and have beef like Barrelo

You son of a bitch, give me an orchid
Yes, I'll talk to you like this when I stand in front of you
If I were 1.50, I'd piss on heads
Yes, Sony will publish all this as it is
What's it like to be a star? It makes me moody
Piss on every son of a bitch who's not in the room with me
I've been nurturing fights since NWA
And I'm popping champagne like Kay's mom, ah
Look at me, I give fucks, piss on family trees
Even Farid celebrates how I never fake
You have crippled genes, what alpha genes?
I'll send you ugly mo'fuckers to the nursing home
Your next album flops because of me
Come on, I'll finally give you a reason for JBG 4
It's a hot, hot summer, hang the chains out of the shirt
"Me alone against everyone" is the last thing that still turns me on.

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