XXX (feat. Avie & Kolja Goldstein)

Get out, get out, you sons of bitches
God, destroy these sons of bitches
I’ll fuck your mothers, you sons of bitches
These sons of bitches, the trash, get out

So many sins I haven’t atoned for yet
Thinking back to the past, lying next to bloody tissues
Nose stuffed up, taking a hit, it’s as long as the block
I got twenty sources, eight drivers, and one cooking the Abiat
In the world I live in, there’s a lot of drama
It’s about life and death, it’s about a lot of cash
Your son always has a piece in his jeans, Dad
Thirty guns in the stash, I’m a lover
You come with your army, I’m coming to clean up alone
Aiming into the crowd, let a whole magazine spray out
Your backers salute when I show up
New ride, fresh rims, and the watch is new too
Six hundred sixty horses, fifteen blocks, Cocaine Cowboy
But I sneak in quietly, or else Mama kicks me out
Hamad owes me money, I’ll send a buddy with a bald head
The last thing you see, a hitman without a mask
Friends ended up in cuffs or in the loony bin
I run and carry the devil with me in the capsule
Runner is loaded, card is leased
Six in the chamber, one flipped in the box

Pull the magazine out of the jeans
Too much chemistry, your dad never liked me
Eh, I’ve never been in love, my pretty
I'm in love with the coco (aha, aha)
Sound for the street and the G's
For homies, immigrants, [senjis?]
That was seventeen shots from the Jeep (woop-woop)
Fuck the police (aha, aha)

Shabab is Karadeniz, Cho, with Shababs from Siverek
His enemies are dead today, show me the bodies, Cho, on his chat
Everyone knows I’m in Turkey with the underworld
Hitmen with Sila3 F, Eki Budapest
What a life, switching cities every two days
Checking four nights in a five-star hotel
Universal offers millions for my rights
Got a messed-up personality like the Joker
Still in the ghetto, still in the sector
Still rapping, Turk-Connect all over the EU
Still got euros, give the big guys respect
Abi Hasan K, zero-nine, SLS gang
What mafia? Choya, we’re with politicians
And back home, even the police love us
Driving through the city in a convoy with Fettahli-Aşiret
All with Sila7 for family, eh

Pull the magazine out of the jeans
Too much chemistry, your dad never liked me
Eh, I’ve never been in love, my pretty
I'm in love with the coco (aha, aha)
Sound for the street and the G's
For homies, immigrants, [senjis?]
That was seventeen shots from the Jeep (woop-woop)
Fuck the police (aha, aha)

When I was little, nobody wanted me (nobody)
Today only Daimler or Rolls in the driveway (push, push, push)
Ev-e-everyone tells me: I swear, but he’s lying ([?])
Everyone’s shooting or pulling, wearing a Patek from Philippe ([?])
Wey, who got hit in the eye?
My wife asks: Why in the café (tah, tah, tah, tah)
And not shot in front of the door? Blood all over the table
This all happened just because you’re a son of a bitch
I warned you so many times, told you so many times
You shouldn’t fuck with me, you’ll lie dead in your grave
Wey, you see each other twice in life
Like you’re lying there with your legs twisted
I’ve been alone on the street for thirty-three years
With the enemies I have (pah, pah, pah)
Iron helps me that I carry, I’ve lived abroad ([?])
Don’t need TP, I go out to pray (bismillah)

Pull the magazine out of the jeans
Too much chemistry, your dad never liked me
Eh, I’ve never been in love, my pretty
I'm in love with the coco (aha, aha)
Sound for the street and the G's
For homies, immigrants, [senjis?]
That was seventeen shots from the Jeep (woop-woop)
Fuck the police (aha, aha)