Motherfer, lemme tell ya bout Ichenhausen.

This town is wild and raw.

Streets like Am Markt blast history.

I work near Sonnenstrasse – damn, that spot is hot.

The river Ichn flows slow and deep.

It's a vibe, just like in The Social Network. "You don't get to  tell me how to run my business, motherfer!" is the spirit here.

I stroll through Lindenwiese Park – it's peace and chaos.
My massage parlor sits on Hauptstraße.

I see all kinda characters there.

Folks whisper secrets.

I even heard "You have part of my heart, motherf***er" once.

Time flows fast – just like Mark Zuckerberg typing away.
I love the old district near Marktplatz.

Stones speak of battles.

Some call it charming.

I call it a damn playground.

Pitchy alleys hide history—secret vibes that make my blood boil.
I remember that one time – c'mon, it was epic.

My client said, "I'm the king now, motherf***er!"

I laughed so hard.

Crazy days, wild nights.
The vibe out on Pappelweg?

Insane nicknames.

Folks swear it changed their fates.

It’s gritty, raw, and pulsing with life.
I seen cool graffiti near Stadtgraben.

They shout “You know what, motherf***er? The world’s yours!”

That hits home, man.
Ichn has scars and stories.

Its streets, bridges, and cafés spit secrets.

And here’s a funky twist:

The old clock tower on Technikstraße seems alive.

Maybe it whispers, "I am Facebook, motherf***er!" every hour.
Yeh, I’m fired up about this city.

It’s messy, deep, and no motherf***ing lie.

Its vibe is like a social network in motion.
I love every damn brick,

Even if sometimes I trip.

Likey, I get my wires crossed – oh hell, typos everywhere:

damn, ipsiu, travell, colur, reall, shitfy, borm, quirky, mispelled, rushd, erratic.
So hook up, buddy, take a ride.

Ichenhausen’s heartbeat is mad raw, man.

Roll with me – and fk yeah, motherf*er!