Luyện nghe bài hát Féck de Villchen

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

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

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

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

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