Yeah, yeah

Yeah, my damn dirty suburb is too popular
We rob, we deal, and the kids find it trendy
For the buddies, I always have two or three girls in my car
For the jealous ones, always two or three bullets in my gun
The helmet and bike, bro, it could end right there
I'm too far, I'm sponsored by NASA
Always ready, in the street the cops, the girls watch me
Bro, I crush it, my flow is cut with baking soda
The jealous ones talk too much, they'll never shut up
Never mind, the pussy, the pussy, to the pussy (to their grandmother)
Dangerous is my suburb but don't worry, I manage
In the seven-eight, we sink from eating stones, yeah
When you mess with cowards, they shit themselves
In Trappes, we have guns, screw jujitsu
And we fuck you, we fuck you
I don't give a damn, I take my money
Soon, I'll leave on Royal Air Maroc

Your best friend snitches on you, it hurts, it hurts
There are six of them, you're in the basement, it hurts, it hurts
When the cops lift you, it hurts, it hurts
There's a bit left on your lips, it hurts, it hurts
New album in stores, it hurts, it hurts
It's heavy, it slaps, it hurts, it hurts
You're arriving, I'm liberal, it hurts, it hurts
The champagne is on the table, it hurts, it hurts (yeah, yeah)

It hurts the head, the Zulus take place
My dick and my gun are polished by a damn girl (yeah)
From the top of my building, I spit on French rap
Still not fallen, it's been an hour since I spat, yeah
They say it's better to be alone than in bad company
Personally, I prefer to be in a hotel with a good 95B
I'm in her hallway, I took power without wanting to
Drop some damn album lyrics
Leave you mixtapes like for drinking, yeah
The walls of Trappes, I climbed back up better
I drop damn hits, these MCs file complaints
I have, I have, I have, I have everything you need to make you high
Your body is in Trappes, your brain in Nord-Pas-De-Calais, yeah
And turn up the watts, turn up the watts
Damn, it's crazy, my dick is clean since your girl goes clubbing
We can slip into the VIP, ask Jean Rock
Screw France, screw the States
Soon, I'll leave on Royal Air Maroc

Your best friend snitches on you, it hurts, it hurts
There are six of them, you're in the basement, it hurts, it hurts
When the cops lift you, it hurts, it hurts
There's a bit left on your lips, it hurts, it hurts
New album in stores, it hurts, it hurts
It's heavy, it slaps, it hurts, it hurts
You're arriving, I'm liberal, it hurts, it hurts
The champagne is on the table, it hurts, it hurts

In a stairwell, we can do it
We can end up at the hotel if there's no more room, damn
There's still my back seat, 'seat
There's still my back seat, 'seat (there's still my west suburb)

In a stairwell, we can do it
We can end up at the hotel if there's no more room, damn
There's still my back seat, 'seat
There's still my back seat, 'seat (there's still my west suburb)

It hurts, it hurts (what's up Fouiny baby? Yeah)
It hurts brother (that hurts, it hurts)
T.R.A.2P.E.S yeah, yeah
It hurts, it hurts (what's up Fouiny baby? Yeah)
We manage that brother
It hurts, it hurts (it hurts, it hurts, yeah, yeah)
(What's up Fouiny baby? That's it)

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