Lyrics of For Jer - A, Ataf, Mass

For Jer (original)

Hoved som en håndgranat
Trækker splitten, parat til at dø som en frontsoldat
Sparker døren ind, så hva' fuck er et håndtag?
Stikkere var snaksalige, så det endte med en voldssag (Bitch!)
Retsag, forbinding rundt om håndfladen
Mens anklageren prøver at split folk ad
Lukket institution, ville holde det nede
Men du holdt ud og lod dem aldrig knække din stolthed
Mens vi gav hele branchen koldsved
Et indblik fra gaden de aldrig selv har oplevet
Efterlod hatersne mobsede
Startede en helt ny genre, med pladen vi kom med
Trodsede retningslinierne, lossede
— folk nede I fjortene linie lige før omkvædet
For min homie hold det
G4L, når du kommer, fylder vi en kop til
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Jeg myrder dem, ikk fysisk men lyrisk
Begraver dem, graver dem op og myrder dem igen
Ta’r byen i bænkpres, tar I byen i pink lak
Beef klar det min livret
København er mit backstagerum
Smækker rappers rundt uden armbånd til mit backstagerum
Går rundt som om jeg ejer stedet
Til dit show med din ho på husets regning med ejeren af stedet
Pige fra de varme lande, krussedullehår
Hendes eneste konkurrent er den Gyldne Dame fra tuborg
Fuck dit rapforum og bredbånd
For mig er konstruktiv kritik når jeg slår dig med flad hånd
A og Ataf I din øreklang
Så fuck samtlige danske rappere I har hørt om
Det her er for min homie Gys
Hold dit hoved op til du igen ser dagens lys
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Shh, hold kæft og hør efter
Når jeg flækker tekster, der penetrere din teflon
Min rapstil er sindsyg
Som leatherface med en motorsav i en Texas provinsby
Spytter bly, får dit hoved til at syde
Jeg fra indre København, hvor de bli’r ved med at skyde
Yeah, det alt sammen gangsta
Hvis man snakker fornuft, bli’r man stemplet som wankster
Og fuck de blå, de en stor joke
De har fjernet tjalden, men efterladt de små til billige coke
Så spørger de, hvorfor de unger er agressiv
Hvorfor de pakker knive og guns og ta’r dit liv
16 bars, 16 skud
For dem der aldrig solgte ud, ay yo Qys hold ud
En hilsen fra A til AF
M med dobbelt S, A og rappers
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer
Til mine sortsmudskere, mine white boys der fusker
Tremmeruskere, den her er for jer
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perker, kartofler, den her er for jer

(translation)

Head like a hand grenade
Pulls the split, ready to die as a frontline soldier
The door kicks in, so what the fuck is a handle?
Stingers were talkative, so it ended with a case of violence (Bitch!)
Trial, bandage around the palm
While the prosecutor is trying to split people up
Closed institution, would keep it down
But you persevered and never let them crack your pride
While we gave the whole industry cold sweat
An insight from the street they have never experienced themselves
Leaving the haters mobbed
Started a whole new genre, with the record we came up with
Defied the guidelines, unloaded
People down in the forty line just before the chorus
For my homie hold it
G4L, when you come, we fill another cup
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
I murder them, not physically but lyrically
Bury them, dig them up and murder them again
If you take the city under bench pressure, you take the city in pink lacquer
Beef ready it my favorite
Copenhagen is my backstage room
Slaps rappers around without bracelets to my backstage room
Walking around as if I own the place
For your show with your ho on the house bill with the owner of the place
Girl from the hot countries, curly hair
Her only competitor is the Golden Lady from tuborg
Fuck your rap forum and broadband
To me, constructive criticism is when I hit you with a flat hand
A and Ataf In your eardrum
So fuck all the Danish rappers you've heard of
This is for my homie Gys
Hold your head up until you see the light of day again
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
Shh, shut up and listen
When I split texts that penetrate your Teflon
My rap style is insane
Like a leatherface with a chainsaw in a Texas provincial town
Spitting lead makes your head boil
I'm from inner Copenhagen, where they keep shooting
Yeah, that's all gangsta
If you speak reason, you will be branded as a wankster
And fuck the blues, they're a big joke
They have removed the tent but left the little ones for cheap coke
Then they ask why those kids are aggressive
Why they pack knives and guns and take your life
16 bars, 16 shots
For those who never sold out, ay yo Qys hold out
A greeting from A to AF
M with double S, A and rappers
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you
To my blacksmiths, my white boys who cheat
Tremors, this one is for you
Gangsters, hustlers, gamblers, mobsters
Perks, potatoes, this one is for you