Music not made for a hundred people but for millions
Marseille and its production
Music not made for a hundred people but for millions

I come down from my mountain on horseback
Out of my Yamabushi monk retreat, I unpack
My bundle in the cold in the purest tradition
The mastery is total like a ninja in action
Innate and acquired merge
Guys watch me, I create deep confusion in their heads
Probe my mind you will lose yours
Don't wake the dragon, the beast is hungrier than a pack of dogs
Fed on big drums and claps, it has to hit
No rotten melodies, or it's a massacre
Stealthy shadows slice the night like shuriken
My bokken shines, the style of the seagull swoops down on its prey
Master Kano of the pen, Li Po drunk on Tao
Drunken style pow one more in the pao
This text is dedicated to the rataclan
Hah, a good raw sound for the thugs

(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs
(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs

The one who messes up my music, your shit, the dirty cops
At our place get hit with Predator Kick
Stare or I'll mystify you like a Twix, as wild as the Knicks
The Manimal returns with his clique
Always the same, the six warriors of apocalypse
Look at the horizon it's our banner being hoisted
IAM I am and I remain a puzzle
Bet on me boy, those who deny my sound
Will end up banging their heads on the walls
The nature of the elements pushes me to chase the trash
The impure becomes pure by mastering writing
On your mixtape a blazon engraved Dark Side inside
A good raw sound for the thugs
Now mature, my life is based on melodies
The scratches on my pages have forged my mind
Aware that my vocation will serve the expansion of my School, son
That of the Silver Micro
My subconscious guides me, the infinite clear power
Look what a good one can do when you play the thugs
Listen to the last Freeman of the 108 dragons clan

(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs
(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs

Hola, amigo, I come back with a pack of scoundrels
And lots of rotten guys, screwing the profit to the gringos
A good raw sound, let go of your music, it's renza
Cerveza in hand, recognize, it's me Sentenza
I hope you're fast, kid, or your beat is a flop, a flop
If you come to kill me, don't tell me your life, dude
Because I'm wary of everything and underestimate nothing
Even the worst louse has a guardian angel
Seated, my full mouth spills a plate of fazoules
Pocket two-three balls, execute contracts on pezoules
The scoundrels appreciate this sound, it's not for nothing
It's like Pal, marketed only for dogs
100% brown-noser, ignore the gossip
Blondin don't die, let go of your hiding place where you stash the loot
Cowboy in ballet shoes, don't fart in the kingdom of the stinking
This beat is designated only for sweaty-faced crooks

(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs
(You know what?) don't let go of the mic, it's sticky
IAM breaks the house with thunderous lyrics
(You know what?) attack with stinking jackal fat
A good raw sound for the thugs

Music not made for a hundred people but for millions
Music not made for a hundred people but for millions
Music not made for a hundred people but for millions

VIEW ORIGINAL LYRICS