[Unique verse]
I come from a place where it's hard to breathe
The unemployment rate takes our breath away and the yoghurts has expired
I talk 'bout everything, about the hassles and the fridges
From the bum on the street corner or from Luis Figo's hook
And I don't forget our mothers who play the gladiators
Who work hard to bring back enough to heat the radiators
A thought for mine, without her, my brother, I fall
Yesterday, unconscious, I blew the rent on a pair of shoes
I slammed it in a bottle and in Hell I may roast
Likе the cops who told me, "Easier to gеt in jail than out."
Among my homies how many ate the spread ?
The days of the Smurfs being chased by Gargamel are long gone
It smells like metal sheet yet the flotation is worth gold
We've been hanging out so much that the cold is painless
I think too much, that's why I killed my nails
I make resumes and discs while waiting to kill the airwaves
But I don't want to kill the future, of my future 3 year old son
So I work hard to make sure he doesn't run out of milk or croissants
I am technical on the field, I play Spanish
On foot or in a big car, fuck Willy Sagnol
S.Pri it’s me, yeah I'm fresh on the cover
I don't have time to be a lover, I want my ass in the Rover
And I learned that among my friends there were some liars
Who can turn enemies for money or pussies
For glory, hatred or jealousy
Condemned to survive, is this our lives?
Line 3, line 4, RER B
The job, the sale and the BRB
A snap cue to read, it's the good snapshots my homies like
We don't have a darkroom in our head but it's negative
Love makes you blind, that's why France doesn't see us
Don't think your son is a punk dad
Even if, like you, he got into a few shenanigans
That he hangs out downstairs with guys who call him "my bro"
Dad, I'm banging to get you through the castle gate
In a Dior shirt, borsalino, a pair of Smalto
I am a Seck, I am a Thiakane, I am a Mendy
I'm in Grand Yohff, I'm in Twente
Write stanzas on azerty
I want Ashanti’s pay
United, we can touch Saturn
If you're my buddy, if you need me, I won't charge you
We've been through some stuff, we struggled
We sold some, we hit some
But I assure you, I'm not a violent, scary
The number of young people who die with their heads on the windshield
Yeah violent
I make more cash on the plate because the 100 is sticky
Don't you dare test us on the radio
Or it's educational punch like Sidi-O
We come back late, early, at the time of the first subway
In case of a saloon fight, we take the first metals
We slalom, we light up under the moon, it smells the powder
Paris, it no longer takes lines my friend, it takes beams
On the retreat we sit
Africa's debt is growing
They are afraid of the call of God, of the call to Mecca
To live is to let oneself die, calculate the parameter
We're gross who talk in net
We will not let ourselves be controlled by a master