Luyện nghe bài hát Ende der Vernunft

You have been long enough, yes
There is only one Essah, the is maximally repainted
Just sketched times, the oracle is
in the glass ball, think me, "Pity, what will become of you!"
From me go into the bathtub,
Do not seven lives, you just are not here anymore, that's it
While these wankers are discussing Rap has to do or not
Show her on Insta - or not?
Throw a grenade on the podium, not a rough
I am cosmic radiation in rhodium
Let him dance like
Your new album has the effect as opium: snoring
Dicka, you not even be my co-pilot
know your position, her rap idol a sociopath
Fuck him, MCs see me and a bow
Like the Centurion's helmet, every ass to me
Because of, "Go on, spit that pisser dead", do it anyway
Essah, non grata of rapeseed
Because I put the mistakes
of you pussies with a stanza into
Whether praised or outlawed, never mind
Kill 'em as if were
and bring albums in the horizontal
From now on it "Ars" and not "bars", bum, look, your Olle
She is when she gets five men at once like Book of Ra
And repeated many times a mantra,
but the rapper pack is ungrateful and
You end up sealed, I get started - they're to blame!

It is gepurgt, the MCs are
What kind of Please no sympathy for the nonsense
Without mercy, Dicka, not a of love between us
They to talk,
fuck 'em deep in their mouths, that's the end of

hope lost
No nice words
The end of
is no tomorrow for you
It has to be a new order
The end of

Not leaders, but I'm driving them into suicide
me,
rap did not arise on roof terraces at Libre (Berlin, Berlin)
Mood varies only between and dissatisfied
Outdoor swaggy, but favorite MC blows like a concubine
Will earn something for the fee, the
Not a big deal, one step further and he is
'resistant, they want tropical dance pop
Meanwhile, I spit out angrily like a Gothic god
the world without limit until she shouts, "Oh, is that painful!"
Piss on rap and suck cock, now get the nutrients
Flow like Bad Boy, far-sighted visionary
That's why I'm beating competition a rusty telescope
No doping, you Trop, I was born to perform
You, on the hand, are happy if you do not play deadly
Just as these idiots turn around in gross motor skills
Dues paid, but in the end utopian costs remained, damn!

It is gepurgt, the MCs are
kind of buddies? Please no sympathy for the nonsense
Without mercy, Dicka, not a of love between us
want to talk,
fuck 'em deep in their mouths, that's the end of

Every hope
No words anymore
The end of
There is no for you
It has to be a new order
The end of

It is gepurgt, the MCs are
What kind of buddies? no sympathy for the nonsense
Without mercy, Dicka, not a of love between us
want to talk,
fuck 'em deep in their mouths, the end of reason

Every lost
No nice words
The end of
is no tomorrow for you
It has to be a new order
The end of