Chorus
9.3 plus 9.4 code 187 flow
2004 we put your rap on all fours, big guy
If you have balls we castrate them
There's only hatred on the menu
Like Bush doesn't give a damn about the UN
9.3 plus 9.4 code 187 flow
In rap we break the fun like Sarko
If you have balls we castrate them
There's only hatred on the menu
Like Bush doesn't give a damn about the UN
Excuse me, if the 9.4 strikes, we arrive full of rage,
Go fuck yourself Kamelancien, Houssni, flow à la Ben Laden
94 test us? Dude it's not worth it
We zigzag, 187 on the zinc music
Dude I'm crazy, I write my lyrics in Baghdad
A grenade straight from Al Qaeda
9.4 plus 9.3 stop playing the gangster there
You review your life, ex-car thief you see
I don't know your life, but I recognize it on your sight
Kamelancien, I arrive terrifying
The cops arrive at full speed checking
Facing the warriors, the old Rohff puts you off-piste
Predict a slaughter as they say off diss
If your rap is money, ours is gold son
Actually I don't give a damn about being an artist
You talk too much, to believe that you're going to burn everything
With whiskey in the peach, I fuck your race you and your verse
I don't have time for these bitches who hold the mic like a dick
Here it raps like it shoots, and breaks your bones like a bat
Department my balls, what do you think, you and your crew
In the street it's for real, if you joke you get hit
Shit, put down the mic we're going to shove it up your ass
Big liar you have no experience shut your mouth you're annoying us
9.3 - 9.4 code 187 the automatic for the big bitches used to showing off
I speak little, when I open it's because I haven't been paid
Big Zulu if you get out it's because my weapon jammed
Change bitches, change buddies, change door, change era
Pok pok popopok, shoot or put your glock on the ground
To the chorus
It's molotov crime, fuck your father in lover
Come over, I move, in the cockpit R.O.H.2.F
Carnivore on the old tear your children, you're crazy
I saw them, you dig that's life
It makes (click) 93 (click) for 94 (click), retrans(click)
With the machete it makes (click) (click)
I know the craps crack big and you see zi(click)
Wet it I have pres(click) of completely iblé-(click) (click)
Where are you? ah you're there(click) take your breath(click)
I sold your gas mask (click) and here I gas you (click)
187 criminal code, stabbed with an opinel
You're dead VIP direction the morgue you laugh (kr kr kr)
You've lost too much weight-( kr kr kr ) from mocking-( kr kr)
I've carved you a commercial smile
Hurry ask the little brother who killed Hitler
They will answer you: Scarface inside is the brain
Open the doors blast the sound
In unison we dance
To locate you I offer a ransom
I drive in first, chill!
It honks behind, fuck his mother, it's my father's street
And hop! I accelerate as soon as I see you cross
Oh! I didn't see you, sorry for knocking you over
I'm not DMX, I'm going to pour, not wipe this beat
You would have liked to kick on this beat damn you're just a dick sucker
It wouldn't stick, be logical it's simple
Clown don't put a 6.35 in a colt 45
So stop talking to me about tess, 16,
Team, tass, guez, rabz, caliber because I fuck you
Under ginger, of the kind a bullet in the leg
No security, they might shoot me in the leg
Ready to draw, I have blood on my hands as henna
So stop puffing up you're "energized", look how it's done
Your hardcore is fake, your flow saturates
My rhymes go through the ages like my bullets go through walls
Yo man! you rap like a turtle, your funds twist you in tunes
Listening to me for you is twisted
Terrorist lyrics, it's Ben Laden who made this bastard sound
Mocked up in Pakistan, the old one is Mola Omar
To the chorus (2 x)
9.3 plus 9.4 murderer buddy, 9.3 plus 9.4 spin it buddy
9.3 plus 9.4 murderer buddy, 9.3 plus 9.4 spin it buddy

VIEW ORIGINAL LYRICS