Alpha [English translation]

2005, the first pimp-tape on the Net;

Nobody has me on their radar as a new-era label.

9 years later, a battle-rap saga;

And to this day no one comes technically to my level of the past.

I've revolutionized punchline rap,

I've revolutionized double-time rap,

I've revolutionized German rap itself,

While the rest sought vainly to copy my technique;

They're still hopeless. Hey, I'll party with some dope hoes,

And wake the next day with a hangover like Beyonce Knowles.

And if they think - the songs are dope, but the guy otherwise just

Hits too much cocaine, a bigwig's son playing G -

Then I light up my blunt and laugh,

'Cuz I went through hell, even if I don't recall leaving;

The scars are healed, but the soul's hard and cold

As the asphalt, through long years of poverty and violence,

Nothing but grief, every time my heart's down, Mother's crying,

Father gone, no one there to show me a direction,

So I went out and had a fucking dark time,

Full of resentment and envy, strife, bitch-moves and fights;

As a German under Kanaks, hitting dope on dark nights and was

Even then, not a boy who's bogged down in drugs,

But such a high turnover makes a drug-trading hub

That at handover almost bursts of trafficking drugs.

So I'm used to it, the dull hate;

Probably the reason's that I let my chrome rims sparkle today

And ostentatiously; hey, so ostentatiously,

That for you, dirty scrub, your retina burns when you see it.

Since the RBA Battles it's happened a lot:

Guys who were my homies want to see me under a coffin lid today,

Because now my life revolves around rankings, cash and fame.

While today they're still going to deal the same weed-packets,

I don't let myself get dragged down by that,

But push my business onto different levels.

This is G-Rap, I'm killing them, shit on realness, I never chill;

Even though studies for you are called: no street credibility.

'Cuz I want to never go back, and use every chance thereto;

Stand wet with sweat in the fight club with boxing gloves.

And don't worry that I'm trying out depri-songs now,

But here Kollegah isn't speaking, but rather Felix Antoine Blume.

And now fuck boss's ramblings, fuck bling and cash;

Real talk, fuck coke lines and fuck image rap.

But who else has such nice flows, rhymes, and sounds so fresh?

Showtime bitch, free up the throne, the king is back.