Féck de Villchen

Gluvs:
Fuck the birds I'm in Luxembourg for the buxom words
You must have heard 4i2i, de läb
When we bust a verse, you learn to love or love to learn
Discerning from a dusty earn,
we burn the herbs head nodding like thunderbirds,
puppet nerds, sky get a muttered curse
and on mother earth, brother, uncle, merc
I swear I heard something stir London is burning, London has burnt.
Douse it out in coke and wine
and lounge about like clouds on floating skies
Make a page of painted ceiling, blaze an evening
Spit in "Minett" and change the way a nation is speaking
"schnoory"

Corbi:
An allen Éieren, mär jongléieren, wa mär d'Wierder zirkuléieren,
mat engem kreéierte Langage, dee souguer d'Queen géing amuséieren.
Connectioun per Eurostar, zwou Stonnen, sou schnell kann et goen,
lo däerfs de näischt méi soen, mär hu London virum Mikro stoen.
Mär zelebréiere gekonnt eis Kampfkonscht am Hanfdonscht,
kreativ, jo nawell ganz vill, mä net gesond fir d'Bronche.
Egal - einfach e klenge Moment, den Alldag vergiessen,
si och, well si kréie mol eppes Anstänneges ze friessen.
Mä Tea Time fällt aus, well am Läb fléisst de Wäin,
mär bréngen iech frësch gehacktent Holz fir däi Kamäin.
Onkraut vergeet net, mä nee, et verbreet sech,
dofir free dech, well eise Bësch wiisst dagdeeglech.

Mowgli:
Fuck the birds, all mothers to the nursery
My "Sourkraut" powerhouse out and out, pick a peppered infant
Mix with a little spittle and a speckled pilchard
Come "Feck de Villchen" cut and crush and pickle him
and whisk and filter dust until it's fettered tincture
Metal come elixir petal tongue lift off
Drunk off of 6 drops sung a hymn to the "Gelle Fra"
Call her oracle, jump from the hollow tooth
Yelling notre dame "lutzenbursh" cook us up a curse
Spell cast spelt arm dough or "sauce blanche"
All turns blanched, bleached crumbs on a buttered earth
Mutton to the first bleed, sit and eat your glutton with the birdfeed

David Fluit:
D'Zäit eng Stonn no vir, si mer e Schratt viraus,
fir e klenge Meeting mat lyreschem Austausch.
Verluer an der Wüst, vun den dréchene Mënner,
gëff ons Waasser, well soss penne geschwënn all eis Sënner.
Am Keller gefaang, am gaang d'Zäit ze vergiessen,
gefoltert vun Munchies, et gëtt vläit Zäit, eppes z'iessen.
D'ganzt Land schléift, mä dës Colläb dreift säin Onwiesen,
mär behalen den Duerchbléck, well eis Aen, déi si gliesen.
A schonn huet de Gong erklong fir d'Poete-Ronn,
an am Fong hunn eis gespëtzten Zong an d'Bierelong d'Ronn gewonn, mäi Jong.
Mär briechen d'Monotonie, well si fänkt un ze fachen,
a réieren am Dëppen, fir nei Gedanken dran ze kachen.

KillaNick:
4i2i, de läb, we got two eyes on you guys
the truth writes itself when we cruise by on mics
and we're too high so poof and I'm who I am
loops by the zoot high so zoop and it's boo yai yay
whoops did you see I say boop when I see I spray
bars for de läb in Lux fuck what you think is fucked
we're fuckin' sick as fuck I fuckin' flip and spit and dump
acid on the tricks and chumps that's chatting shit
and spit in lumps of batter when I scatter man
rap him up and slap a man violence that im chattin' dan
London to Luxembourg stand up and salute the man that's doin' it big
and we will ruin it for pricks
when we're showin' man what is real flavours in your fizz
that's the bizz that we live in in the bits, it's a given that we live in a prison
mind control and pessimism is persistent in this system
I can see change in the distance but it's still a fucking mission