How are the people?
Powerful as the Hulk, but I'm not green
I have experience on that mic, dangerous as MF Doom
With that Mouse
(Danger)
The east in the house, oh my God
(Oh my God)
Rap shit locked like Rossi in motorsport
And even though my name isn't Valentino
No one can try to claim my title
Stop touching that mic with your fidgeting
Leave it for Stick and a buddy named Rico
This is real life, no scale model Burago
In times of crisis I give advice as Customato
To Tyson, my son go to the plato
Because you only want fast from your regular presenter
And he it says, about beats, swing it like a blowout
I come with more mates than Verkamman
With plans for the underground, without fooling around
I better take rappers their food because I don't hear any hunger< br/>Swollen like obese people
For those who thought they were a second Julio Iglesias kind of player
Shut up, no matter how many flows you have
You can't rap, have a good day< br/>Achmea Groene Land insured from day one
An up-to-date diary, accounting arranged
Feel the warmth of the bass, woofers sweating
( If only you knew)
Ice melts, iron has to be forged when it's hot
Well, how difficult can it be
Essentially we are like the Tour De France for your racing bike
Forget your fast cycling pants and helmet
The flow is good for everyone, Joop Zoetemelk
Strong in time trials and mountain stages
I laugh at doping controls and eat bananas and pasta
What, Sonja Bakker ? Young don't make me laugh
An extra layer of butter on bread like Marco Bakker
I like it raw like Eddie, Ol' Dirty or Big Daddy
(Ooh baby, I like it raw)
No bullshit from R. Kelly
(I like it raw, shimmy, shimmy ya)
And with Sticks I put classics over the beat of Delic
And I shoot pictures like Asian tourists
Maybe I watch films like Pulp Fiction too often
I hit the target and I don't miss
Sometimes I'm like a DJ with a record, I fuck and I mix
And go last minute , my first lyric
Has been maturing for eighteen years now like a delicious Glenfiddich
Twenty-eight inch liquid crystal screen sharp
Do my dance and have a nice day
Why should I scatter my seeds in a dry, withered landscape
Rotten nettle plants, the rest is a sandbox
Failed from the start, I don't think it had a chance
Pro boxer, é One blow flat against the canvas
Can't waste much energy on a joker
Hip Hop is full of them, don't ask us for a handle
Ask Coldplay for a parachute, for you free fall
There's no Oasis here with some Sugababes and All Saints
So are you going to have to drive or watch, it remains to be seen
Are you ready? Pull up your pants
Don't let anyone tell you what to do and how to write
I know my cousins, from bar crawlers to devotees
Everyone has his way, forget your route planner
No one can plan their route
Admittedly, I have looked at things carefully
In the prime of my life, don't throw a spanner in my works

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