Ah
And time keeps racing, but I stop it, because
I remember exactly how it all began!

Yo! As a casual player
With headset on the chair Rap and yet
Better than anyone in the battle arena, tear-
Shred the opponents with the tracks, a little later
Everyone in the underground scene knows the rapper Kollegah
And in 2005 came the first exquisite tape
But the heads in this game lack credibility
Because such a ghetto type stands there
Who wears a sparkling chain instead of baggy jeans
And doesn't know much about graffiti
Who kicks texts in which explicit topics
Like the excessive crack dealing with gang members goes
Those of ecstasy and haze, the magnum he wears
Tell of drive-bys on ghetto streets in a fat SUV
A guy who mows down all the whack MC's on West Coast beats
With eloquent sentences and an excellent technique
Raises himself to a rap genius
And makes rap outside of Juice and Backspin live again
Until the republic trembles, but I
Am reduced to the image pimp
Who is not interested in rap, but in business
Because I don't care about freestyle rap at the open mic
They don't see that I put energy into refining flows and
Passionately advance German hip-hop
With unknown wit and unique punchlines
I don't give a shit about the rest and in 2006 the
Whole nation knows my rhymes from the net
The first time on stage, live at the Splash
And it sounds like someone unplugged the mic and the heads are booing
I'm holding the mic wrong, because I've only rapped in the booth so far
Other rappers have their first gig at the youth center
In front of ten kids and are backed by a whole crew, I was the
Technical peak, the Mac in the business
But I screwed up my first performance at the Splash gig
Fuck it! Since then Splash gigs have been torn apart
As long as the fee for the performance is right like jazz guitarists
No bad conscience
I regret nothing! Look back smiling
The boss doesn't let himself get fucked!
I've fallen on my face a thousand times
But always got up again! Yeah!
And I've developed excellently
The rest is history like the delay of Alphagene
Because they caught me with a package back then
I've flowed night after night
With Rizbo in Flingern in a bum studio
Where the plaster falls from the ceiling, three days awake
Go out and get a kebab from cigarette change
Eyo, fuck the cash, we had nothing but rap
And the vision, we bomb every one of these dick suckers away
We were fresh, I recorded the songs for the coke addicts
Wrote rhymes, stared from the balcony at the city lights
It was hard at the beginning, but the dream slowly came true
I was never made for this life in a hamster wheel
Rapped about bling and cars, but swore to myself
Before I buy cars, my mom bathes in cash
On the road with the German train
And my mother cried when I gave her the suitcase with ten thousand euros
We drove to jams in the east in Elvir's Golf with five people
Rap in front of fifty people for a few hundred plus gas costs
No support in the scene, it was as if the whole world hated us
I don't care, we were the definition of self-made
Loyalty and hard work, we knew we could do it
And I won't stop until Slick's office is full of gold like my neck

(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)
(Kollegah)

Once a nobody, now they have to clear the way for the monarch
And my path is straight like the polar ice caps
And still the envious want to see Kollegah dead
But if they come from all sides, the only way leads upwards
I created from a simple idea and the urge for success
A huge German rap empire including gold records
Brought the freshest style, the heaviest lines
From zero to a hundred and with King then back to one
And it was boss rap, not radio music
Bitch, there are worlds between like Mario and Peach
Tz, ey, still the envious hate
Accuse me of sellout, just because my fanbase is expanding
They say I have no credibility anymore
Just because more and more kids are still approaching me on the streets
But what's wrong with that?
They think they can irritate the Mac
But, what does Da Vinci care if a servant criticizes him
You see me disinterested on the block posing with bills
Because now the biz is slowly running like the victim of an undead
Kid, today I live what I rapped at twenty
All loose, like the teeth in your junkie face
I advance my business make more money every year
Than twenty top-10 rappers alone with a fitness program
Yeah! Haters gonna hate! I don't give a fuck about the bitches
Because you don't look down when you're on your way up
I'm increasing the murder rate
You guys are busy arguing about my first name
I'm busy affording new sports cars
Not for material reasons
Just so other rappers die of envy
Who have tried to keep me down all these years, so I never become number one
These spastics!
But every time I buy a car
The same amount goes undercover to people in Africa
Ah! Palestine, Syria, you know
The true face of a man shows when he is rich
I've never forgotten where I come from
Big Boss, Killuminati, the Don is back
And anyone who thinks my last songs are wack
Will be gagged with the upcoming tape like in bondage sex, I
Almost beat two Austrians into a coma
At this point, shoutouts again to the self-defense paragraph
I wonder what you're thinking
That just because I'm rich, I'll smile at you when you call me a son of a bitch
Never! Even if I live in jail, I'll flow hard
Because I keep marching as long as my mother doesn't live in a palace and
I know you're listening to this track, Mama
The hundred and twenty thousand for you were just the beginning
I have a bad reputation, thanks to the gangsta rap albums
But without any reputation, you can't get any echoes
And still my tracks are blasting eardrums
Bitch, since King release it's Selfmade World Records
German rap is a costume ball today, ask anyone
Lots of ridiculously dressed guys, like on amusement park rides
I let the bullets rain like a psychopath
Give you hollow tips and I'm not talking about greeting advice
Sun Diego was too shy and androgynous for rap
Today he disses his idol while wearing a sponge costume
Pretty sweet
How suddenly everyone here wants to swing up to the king like my Lambo doors
But I keep my distance from every son of a bitch
That's why I also said to Shneezin show these Youtube victims dick!
Pure dominance, I don't give a fuck about the haters
Because for the platinum record you need an iron will
Ey and still the backpackers demand realness from Kollegah
But what's realer than the fact that I'm making millions?
I brought bonze rap with a Casio on my wrist
And today for everyone who hated, a gold Rolex in the closet
Brought double times in the style of machine guns
And that with the linguistic violence of an ancient scholar
Now it's time to reap the laurels
I can fill a ten-minute track
In which I only tell you about all my records
I remain the best, yeah, not just in theory
I blow the toys away, this is German rap genocide
Kiezstricher, see, your crew is getting massacred
But if you're celebrating this, wait for Zuhältertape 4!

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