T-O-N-I Writer schreiben meinen Namen
In Einkaufspassagen und an Reihenhausfassaden
Und ich weiß aus Erfahrung, das Ice auf mei'm Armband
Sorgt bei den meisten Betrachtern für Kreislaufversagen
Der King in der Hood und ich roll' im Mercedes auf neunzehn Zoll
Von einer Stadt in die nächste, beeindrucke damit das deutsche Volk
Und bin fly wie ein Albatros du Penner auf keinen Fall der Boss
Denn bei dir klingelt es ordentlich in der Kasse, seit du bei Aldi jobbst
Und du siehst vor mei'm Haus die Stretchlimo
Ich bin immer iced-out wie ein Eskimo
Kid, ich ticke mit Dope oder Coke in der City und fliege dann
Erste Klasse nach Übersee, treffe dort einige Druglords im Hinterland Mexikos
Um Tonnen an Crack zu hol'n und ich bin ein Sexsymbol
Während der Rest der Rapper schwul is' so wie Fettes Brot
Machen auf Ami, besorgen sich Ketten und Armbänder, Baggypants oder Bandana
Dabei wissen alle, dass ihr Gangstarap fake is' wie Wrestlingshows
Und ich trage nur Sachen, die passen, und lege vor allem auch Wert darauf
Dass in dem Label zu lesen ist „Original Made In Italy“ Gucci
Versace und Prada du Penner gehst in einen Laden und kaufst dir
'ne Cap und ein Shirt, das bis an die Knie geht, und du denkst, du bist
Dann der Mac, aber Kollegah prügelt dich weg, Idiot
Ich komme edel und elegant, mehrere Pelze an
In der Regel zerfick' ich die Bitches, denn ich hab' ein'n Penis wie'n Elefant
Nigga, verrate mir bitte ma', wieso du Penner mit Pumpguns aus Plastik post
Und wieso sieht dein Schwanz aus wie'n Ast, Idiot

Verschwinde, Nutte, ich mach'
Verpiss dich, Schlampe, ich mach'
Geh weg da, Hure, ich mach'
Ich mach'
Verschwinde, Nutte, ich mach'
Verpiss dich, Schlampe, ich mach'
Geh weg da, Hure, ich mach'
Ich mach'

Ich verkauf' an Zuhälter Drogen in der Fußgängerzone
Und wer nicht zahlt, verliert Blut wie bei Blutspenderproben
Kid, und wenn die Polizei mich fasst
Land' ich wie Kobe Bryant im Knast, weil ich Hoes vergewaltigt hab'
Ich besuche dich Bitch um sieben, verlasse um acht deine Town
Und der Bürgermeister veranlasst einen Bodycount
Ich schieb' dir die Gun ins Maul
Bis du nur stammelst, ich drücke dann ab und man hört in der
Stadt dann noch mindestens drei Viertel weiter die Pumpgunsounds
Ich geb Schwanz an Frauen, komm' mit Kroaten und Serben
Mit 'ner Ausrüstung wie in U.S.-Army-Kasern'n
Sie zögern nicht lange und ballern dir dann mein'n Namen ins Herz und
Geben dann deiner Frau und deiner Mutter nen Job an der Strassenlaterne
Nuttensohn, das ist Bossrap und
Ich teile deinen Schädel, nenn' es Kopfrechnung
Ich hab Glocks, TECs und unter Jubel von Zehntausenden
Kill' ich dich zu den Klängen des Zuhältertapes
Und während ich noch eine Flasche Mineralwasser auf Ex trink'
Mach' ich von deiner Mum per Digitalkamera Sexpics
Und jeder von deinen Bekannten nennt dich Drag-Queen, denn
Du spielst öfter Dame als Brettspielfans


Lyrics submitted by Ocean Soul

T.O.N.I. Lyrics as written by Ivan Kesten Felix Blume

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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