Luyện nghe bài hát Féck de Villchen

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

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

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

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

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