Rappe wie Rakeem Lyrics (English Translation) – Kollegah

Read the full Rappe wie Rakeem (English Translation) lyrics by Kollegah along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Kollegah’s music, you can also explore T.O.N.I. – Style (2024) and Der Rohat, two other songs by Kollegah.

[Intro]
Yeah

[Part 1]
Crimetime, Mois, no pranks
Dragging your boys through the hallways after a drive-by
We’re not the same, my friend, we’re hardly comparable
My lines are on point like exclamation marks
Your lines and flows are just embarrassing copies
I may be wrong in terms of tone, but I don’t steal any melodies
Because I’m staying T-O-N-I
The one who gives it to the German rap b!tch in cowgirl position
And makes her scream like a ghost on Halloween
That’s the s*it for ghetto G’s who are stressed out and coked up
Who only stop shooting to quickly change ammunition
Who are in the ghetto with bulletproof vests
Instead of being at home in the home, eating their cauliflower at the dinner table
Who are in youth correctional facilities
And there’s a pedophile Stab a son of a b!tch with a tuna can lid
They let him die with a ruthless smile
And say to the guard: “That’s not blood, those are just pasta sauce stains”
For the ghetto kids in dubious corners
Who are full of pain with more lead on their shoulders than a shot put champion
Hey, always keep your head up
In this cold, bitter, post-apocalyptic world full of false-faced godless people
Alpha gaze, boss pose
Kill rappers with a noose wrapped around their necks in the forests of the Eastern Zone
Walther clip in the fabric pants, firing salvos as a sample
My willingness to kill when I threaten the cops under the crescent moon
Soon there will be dead big shot kids on the block
Because they listened to songs by the nutcase called Konrad Schindler
Instead of becoming a man, he pops the Botox
The idiot is wasted like hollow-tip cartridges and shots
K to O, the big shot ticks Coke rocks in the train station district
To his mother and she uses blowjobs as a means of payment
Tailored suits, starry airs, because the people think highly of Kollegah
As if he were a theater stage show spot

[Hook]
Maybach in the driveway, villa in the country
Plus I rap like Rakim
I started with kilos, today millions in the bank
All killer, plus I rap like Rakim
Ashes, wipe the dust off the MPC
Put the sample in the beat and I rap like Rakim
Money, fame and a dream legacy
I have everything there is, plus I rap like Rakim (Hey, hey)

[Part 2]
How often they say it’s a tough area
But the area is never tough, it’s the way of life
It’s mothers who say: “Please go down the straight Ways!”
While brothers say: “Distract the woman at the counter!”
Brothers who take bottle after bottle off the shelves
Steal things and walk out with their jacket seams strained
Brothers who come to school for brothers to sort things out
By giving brothers of other brothers a few slaps
They’re the guys who hand out weed packets to rich kids with daddy’s money at a graduation party on the outskirts of town
Who date a few while they’re at it
But deep down they long for something real
They’re the guys who like to meet you at night
Gain the crowd and fu*k people when they look weak
Who step out of the alley, smiling and ask: “Do you have a cigarette?”
And then give you a few slaps on the back like it’s punching bag training
Then leave you lying there dazed, take off and just walk away laughing
Fears that follow arise, cramps in the stomach veins
From people who can’t go to sleep without pills
They are the crazy crazy ideas
From guys who have just been in prison and are doing things again
They know when and where trucks are parked at a rest stop
They stretch warehouses that produce good liquor
They maintain contact with guys in neighboring towns
And move the stuff through town to the fence
Or count the money after they’ve cracked steel-fitting safes
And stuck Semtex to vending machines
And then calmly drive at two hundred km/h in an AMG
Over motorways and remote roads
They are idiots who thought they were cool with those
Who pull too many noses, brag about something they’ve done to others
But who then disappear because of it
Because nobody likes to see their true face in the evening on the news
They are people who are high on haze every day
Or are hard at it until it’s too cool, because Synapse damage
There are cops who are on your heels
Think they know what’s going on because they read a few files
Tell you something about a criminal order and imprisonment
As if they didn’t know that you would rather fall than talk
Some rats think they’re really into the game
Mois, don’t tell me your area looks like Baghdad
No interest in hamster wheels, everyone wants the Garden of Eden
Who can relate to everything I’m saying here? Money is only a weak blessing
I’ve been wearing my platinum chains since then just to protect my neck arteries
And I rap like Rakim
Hey, I rap like Rakim
[Hook]
Maybach in the driveway, villa in the country
Plus I rap like Rakim
I started with kilos, today millions in the bank
Everything’s killer, plus I rap like Rakim
Ashes, wipe the dust off the MPC
Put the sample in the beat and I rap like Rakim
Money, fame and dream

[Hook]
Maybach in the driveway, villa in the country
Plus I rap like Rakim
I started with kilos, today millions in the bank
All killer, plus I rap like Rakim
Ashes, wipe the dust off the MPC
Put the sample in the beat and I rap like Rakim
Money, fame and a dream legacy
I have everything there is, plus I rap like Rakim