Lyrics: Yeah, it's our lives, son Full of illicit things, weed, the cops are active in the city, so let's flee quickly For some good times, I see kids falling And guys frowning because they see Guiz climbing I expected it, they had stacks in mind It's strange, in fact, it's me who ends up robbing in secret I dream of leaving the asphalt On the edge, sponsored by Gillette Mach 3 I grind and rap dirty: I've put everything in it I have to position my hyenas, my street dogs, my rats and mice in front Easier said than done, everything that kills us is affordable Just look at the price of beer 28 francs for a pack of 12 for 2 or 3 hours of high We quickly learn to count Yeah, it's sad but that's how it is, I can't help it Prisoner of the vices of this hardcore dog's life I have a clean style, but dirty thoughts Nervous, proud, I almost stabbed Phaal' Damn paranoia, it's making me lose control I'm pissed off, fuck it, I'm gonna stay at home Scratch my dark thoughts, rap and fuck up my liver Remember that only those who live on hope are disappointed I've learned to see the glass half empty I remind you that it's 7 euros in the rich neighborhoods We started the race with a bullet in our foot Even in a suit in an interview, we're judged from the start They taunt us right away, and I think of all my stubborn Arabs The blacks: big lips, kinky hair We learned to make money by taking parallel paths I only do music since I'm less in Villeneuve-la-Garenne Learned to make money by taking non-halal paths I only do music since I'm less in Villeneuve-la-Garenne Okay it's tech, tech as soon as we show up It's decks, it was blows It's the heads we cut off and the dep' we disgust Hey man, we don't give a fuck, stop it We don't feel the hits, we all hang out at the bottom of the towers Our heads are not very cool I don't give a shit about your crazy neighborhoods, we hit hard Come for us because we're crushing it with broken jaws Guys, pick up the shells, two-shot pumps No domain where you beat us, except sucking balls It smells like filth, cascading faces And if you're not good at fighting, you'll end up as fast food We come to tackle the beats, we're guilty of crushing everything Collecting cash, and coming to tackle your low blows You recognized the missile: hardcore rap, difficult That makes MCs and ladies move like Missy So shut up when the monarch speaks Hardcore Guizzy-Guizmo to fuck up your Archos I wrote "I hate you" to relieve myself a bit Today I realize that I could let go of everything I have a hard time feeling good, even when there are no problems So I spit out my anxiety in piles of poems RAP, money, the experiences and the women How do you expect things to go well, cousin? I lost my mind It's shit, it needs to stop quickly I have to stop keeping everything inside I have to calm down and express myself I spend my time boasting that I'm a virtuoso On my way to the grocery store, buying my cancer and cirrhosis I abuse beer and my buddies worry To think that I looked innocent in my fifth grade photos But I won't stop anytime soon I'll drink four times as much when I'm told I have cancer And when I've lost 15 kilos Maybe it's my destiny, to leave my mark and die quickly To face what I avoid We learned to make money by taking parallel paths I only do music since I'm less in Villeneuve-la-Garenne Learned to make money by taking non-halal paths I only do music since I'm less in Villeneuve-la-Garenne.
