Some time ago, a time of gold
The breakdance-fever burns all souls
Electro Rock, Wild Style and Beat Street
Colourful graffities among the streets
Dozer Dee, a fourteen year old kid
Trained alone some floor-rock-tricks
Reed and him, they were the Cold Cash Crew
Whirling around to the Boogaloo-Groove
Time for separation, for other relations
He breaks the wrist and this is the occasion
Spreading his murals all over the stations
First Reals Sonics, the bomb-foundation
T to the I to the Z to the A
There Is Zome Aim, that’s the name of the new game
He starts to write rhymes, tries not to bite styles
Developping his own rhythmic profile
Hangin‘ around with Elmoe and Tee
Rockin‘ the crowd with the Slum Brother Zee
They make the show from the last to the front row
People scream "Ho", let themselves go
Make’em feel cold, from head to toe
The mass gets mad, when their rhymes flow
Decision is made to enter a new crew
P-27, the name of the fool’s troop

REFRAIN
Sometime ago, the first mic-hold
Sometime ago, a time of gold
Graffiti walls, tears on my eyeballs
Sometime ago

As I
Reminisce, piss on my bag of memories, fantasies
I’m diggin‘ no theories, so here these
Tronstyled wild thoughts in the past, at
Last ya mind’s arrested by the present
Yesterday, all my
Troubles seemed so far away, so I say
Young and naive ain’t that a thief, I was
Worst to my mother, my father and myself, the
T.R.O.N. then I was learning and earning the spirit of Rap
I was illin‘ when I started the attack with the shit of Chuck D
Public Enemy, the Beasties and my philosophy
I was trainin‘ to scratch
Pitch-Patch you can’t catch the
Flavor of Hip Hop in a week
Freak the one-two-double 0

REFRAIN

Boom! He’s all alone
Most of his friends deceived him to the bone

It takes a long time before he says "No,
I gotta look forward I’ve got my way to go!"
Beats to swiss rhymes hit ya like a sledge
Mit schwyyzerdütsche Teggscht redsch über was dy uffregsch
Ab was den abhebsch währenddäm die eige Sprooch pflegsch
No rules, wie de Wörter zue Sätz zämmelegsch
Änglisch, Baseldütsch, ei Wort nachem neggscht
No rules, about the choice of the language

When I reached 14 I met Radikkal, for
These 2 DJ’s Disco was incredible
But we learned to rock the top `til 4 o’clock
In the morning we were high
High from spinnin‘ wheels on high heels
High from da bass until we touched the sky
Seventeen years old first steps in a
Lyrical laboratory, mandatory, I grew up, so we
Started to make music, the 27-Funk
Started to smoke that skunk "Weed’s"
What we choose when we wanna blind us
Hide’n seek so nobody can find us
Now 98, I drop funky licks
Give the drummer some until he breaks sticks
Smoke shit as well as I’m gittin‘ down
With the baddest funk o’James Brown
I used to keep the Hip Hop always in my left eye
There is killa-bee that wants me to try, to try new
Phrasings, I’m the contender
Defender of my own remember, the
Old days, and not only the good
Times there was you, take a look into, what
Was, remember December
Turn over leaves of an old calendar, the
Tronman wants you to go, flow back to the
Days of sorrow, sometime ago

REFRAIN

Jetzte, 11 Johr schpöter
Chumm‘ ych, dr Skelt!, dr Silbelöter
Im Handgepägg dr Funky Flöteköter Tron
DJ Drozt, d’Noodlerööter
`98 wieder zrugg uss dr Vrsänggig
Mit Zungevrränkig simmer schtändig uff Sändig
Unbändig schwoofe bis zur Hüftvrränggig
Dr Sound so luutt, dass me sich beidhändig vrschtändigt
Matt hits beats with feet and sticks
Tronman’s lips lick Rips while he kicks Licks
Mick’s the bassman with the fat kicks
Drozt’s fingertips working hard like a Cyrix
C’mon man, put the needle onto the plastic
Show the people that your hands are nasty

REFRAIN