When it starts to get good, and it finally takes off
You stare, as if you all lived behind the moon
Feel the flow, the show is starting
Raps come big, and that's just how we like it
Fat beats come in your ear like Q-Tips
Sounds good, right? Come closer so that you get a lift
My crew eats mics for lunch like chives
Even when I'm sober I sound as if I'm smoking shit
If you need hits, you don't have to listen to ABBA
Because here come these amazing brats, who burn mics like tobacco
This beat beats the eardrum to a pulp
Because we love this shit like kids love ding-dong-ditch
[Hook]
Nod to the beat and move your ass
If it's Deichkind on the mic, bon voyage
Please give me more of that hot shit
When you play that, my legs get weak
Nod with the beat and move your ass
If it's Deichkind on the mic, bon voyage
Please give us more of that hot shit
Cause we can't get enough of this Deichkind style
Check that out, the brats are ready to go, yeah
Without a map, since we were already there anyways
Prick up your ears, the kids are big-time
Because we're at a showdown I tell you cheers to that
When I let loose, it looks stupid to you (word to that)
Beats make us higher than on a skyscraper
I'm so on it, cause in this circle I fit in
So please nod, gold digger, if you know what I mean
[Hook]
Boys with woop style, shake your heads
Girls with hot-tops, shake your braids
You have the honour of four northerners today
So throw your hands up in the atmosphere
Because that here mutates, guaranteed to be a long-runner
Three Deichkind singers, with Nina as a common denominator
Once inside, you don't get enough like a cliffhanger
Today I chop up my page, as if I were pale water
This Deichkind, this is the reason
So what boy, what girl, put your foot down
It's too phat, you think, swing what you have to the bass
[Hook]
Watch out, because here come the the rascals
The beats drive, like cowboys cattle in Texas
(check that) I dribble with words, like a slob
And say (peep, peep) "Bonne appetit, how does it taste?"
If I used the microphone old-school
You'd never come down, like junkies with drug addictions
Cause the shit must be on top, like pilots in jumbo jets
In terms of raps we make the tracks full and fat
You know that, so why do you look so surprised
And dance so violently, that you scrub the ground with your feet
Turn the Walkman on, we're feeding the earplug
So nod to the beat and shake your head
[Hook x2]