song lyrics / Leto / Immonde translation  | FRen Français

Immonde translation into English

Performers LetoKoba LaD

Immonde song translation by Leto official

Translation of Immonde from French to English

Junior Alaprod, friend
Nardey, it's hot, that, ah-ah

Koba, Leto in your crib, turn up the sound, cut the weed (thanks)
Range Rover, it's the boat, we take all parts of the cake (ooh)
Doing them, it's a piece of cake (huh-huh)
Winterfell Mafia Castle (huh-huh)
Porte de Saint-Ouen, north side of the ring road
If you owe us, it can go up at your place (boom)

Nothing has changed except that (no)
The losers parade like models (ooh)
Classic like a pair of Sharks (huh-huh)
It's Paris here, not the 'ricans (tou-tou-touh)
I arrive in a big German car (skrt)
He's not a real one if he stabs you in the back
You messed up, you get a hefty fine
I pull out my dick, I spat on her back

On my mother's life, we'll do them if they play too much
My hood has three holes but we tolerate no hole
Grew up in the illicit, it's the kids we incite
We got a taste for risk because of the fucking profit

And I'll go to all the addresses, even if it's at the end of the world
With the week's profit, I bring out the latest fashionable Nike (splash, splash)
My God, tell me why this world is filthy?
But fuck his mother, I'm in the Porsche, there are all modes (tou-tou-tou-touh)
Bullets rain, another family in tears
It only sells (it only sells) in our sectors (sectors)
"Fuck the cops" in our halls that we sing in chorus
I think we're cursed (cursed) in our sectors (oh-oh-oh-oh, eh)
(Bye-bye, bye-bye)

By default, I grew up in the street
(By default, I learned everything in the hall)
The fights, the raids, the weed, the stress
It's the weed or the Game Boy
So, outside at eleven thirty
I cut the punch bag into slices
I serve losers in turns
I worked too much, I managed too much
Sixteen years old, I draw my first gun
Midnight, I close, I recover
I count, I join my brothers in Mantes (in my village, in Mantes-La-Jolie)
I cross it out to cut it in two
I was driving without air conditioning in the Clio 2
Now, I have heated seats in the GT

On my mother's life, we'll do them if they play too much
My hood has three holes but we tolerate no hole
Grew up in the illicit, it's the kids we incite
We got a taste for risk because of the fucking profit

And I'll go to all the addresses, even if it's at the end of the world
With the week's profit, I bring out the latest fashionable Nike (splash, splash)
My God, tell me why this world is filthy?
But fuck his mother, I'm in the Porsche, there are all modes (tou-tou-tou-touh)
Bullets rain, another family in tears
It only sells (it only sells) in our sectors (sectors)
"Fuck the cops" in our halls that we sing in chorus
I think we're cursed (cursed) in our sectors

Junior Alaprod, friend
Nardey, it's hot, that, ah-ah
Translation copyright : legal translation into English licensed by Lyricfind.
No unauthorized reproduction.
Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group

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