Palmen aus Plastik English translation
von Bonez MC & RAF Camora

Under plastic palm trees
A sea of gasoline, no sand, but it doesn't matter
I ride around on my scooter, it gets a little cold when it's night
I burn my weed under plastic palm trees

Above the rooftops of my city, the air smells like marijuana
The Benz freshly washed, baby, coconut scent
A thousand photos in a drunken state, what a career
High today, tomorrow we're millionaires
Five hundred horses, I look at the stars
Send greetings to my boys far away
Haramburger district, sun from a tube
Fake fingernails and carrot-colored skin
My world is plastic, but it doesn't matter, I'd still be
187, even if this hype was gone ("you bitches!")
She brings me cornflakes and croissants to bed, once again she leaves me no choice
And all the neighbors hear us having sex, but I don’t care at all


I’m hanging in my district under plastic palm trees
A sea of gasoline, no sand, but it doesn’t matter
I ride around on my scooter, it gets a little cold when it's night
I burn my weed under plastic palm trees

Summer
Above the rooftops of my city, the air smells like marijuana
The Alfa matte black like the ravens in the air
The sun shines behind the skyline like it never does in Ballermann
If it gets hot, Berlin becomes my Panama
I’ve got all of Vienna behind me like David Alaba
Instead of hanging with Vatos Locos, I’m chilling with Arabs
Plastic palm trees, the girls are made of silicone
RA like a ghost, high up in the building
Chilling on the balcony, smoking blunts and dreaming
My sea sounds like engine noises
I only live my dream if it’s real
There are thousands of movies on Netflix
The sun makes the skin brown like Nesquik
Countdown to the future, Camora is finally alive

I’m hanging in my district under plastic palm trees
A sea of gasoline, no sand, but it doesn’t matter
I ride around on my scooter, it gets a little cold when it's night
I burn my weed under plastic palm trees


Summer
Above the rooftops of my city, the air smells like marijuana

I’m hanging in my district under plastic palm trees
A sea of gasoline, no sand, but it doesn’t matter
I ride around on my scooter, it gets a little cold when it's night
I burn my weed under plastic palm trees