Witness as K.I.Z. travels across the country
With 4-bag drive you need street credibility and get bullets implanted
You have fans, I have disciples who explode in front of your studio
You cry around when someone calls a whore or son of a bitch
You're jealous because I chase your old lady with a rolling pin
What would we do if we didn't have these fans
Who buy the third album on which we only rap about dicks
We want love and money
If K.I.Z. is underground then lock yourself in your basement
And think you have us all to yourself
Women call, I hang up like my DJ
Sit down, sit down at the computer and check my she-males
Rockstars just without guitar and H
Feel free to rap about weapons and money, but it's all about punchlines and steaks
Dicks out until the last melody
They say the good die young, but the best never die

We fucked the country
Stand on stage with an empty stomach and hand in the crotch
(I've stuffed your mouth but not mine yet!
Your mouth stuffed mine not yet!)
What's the respect for us if we don't earn anything
We have stuffed rappers over our fireplace
(I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
I want to eat money, eat money!)

These assassination attempts are a locust plague
Bullets don't hit me because I wear 70 gold chains
After the car bomb, I put myself back together
To get to the studio today I'd rather take the tram
I'm unpopular since I signed at the bunker
I make misanthropic underground music
I don't give a shit if this crap sells
Rappers flee to the toilet, shit their backbone out
Strip poker for your life, with your wife in the garden
I take her from behind and look at her cards
She says she would be disgusted by your fish stick
Your grandma wants to knit a noose for you
Your mom gets fucked until your dad changes color
Seventy men inside her, a Trojan horse
Victim bring me a drink, be a useful child
German rap awakens my protective instinct

We fucked the country
Stand on stage with an empty stomach and hand in the crotch
(I've stuffed your mouth but not mine yet!
Your mouth stuffed mine not yet!)
What's the respect for us if we don't earn anything
We have stuffed rappers over our fireplace
(I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
I want to eat money, eat money!)

We signed a pact with the devil (Ohlala!)
Ask me how your album is (So lala!)
This is my last night, light on me, I get the sack out
In the past, there was Ritalin for this, today applause
You have to keep it real, only wear dresses and put on makeup
The light in the bunker makes my skin pale and I tan in the flash
All these rappers are snakes, they take the eggs in their throat
I'm not coming out with you, we're going straight into the woods
This is free violence, I fight for raw love
Luckily for you, the rest of my people stayed in the zoo
I'm not watching any longer while the rest of you cash in
When I was little, I masturbated to Catwoman
We're a boy group, the bunker is just camouflage
Groupies faint, I do ass-to-mouth resuscitation
My teachers said I was a lazy spastic
But today the whores scream Yes! like in the sports palace

We fucked the country
Stand on stage with an empty stomach and hand in the crotch
(I've stuffed your mouth but not mine yet!
Your mouth stuffed mine not yet!)
What's the respect for us if we don't earn anything
We have stuffed rappers over our fireplace
(I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
I want to eat money, eat money!)

(I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
I want to eat money, eat money!)
(I've stuffed your mouth but not mine yet!
Your mouth stuffed mine not yet!)

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES