Hey yo Skalp, I wanted to say your prod' is rap
It's real fucking rap

I rap about the isolation cells of Nanterre, the brothers we bury
The gunshots, the weed, gun to the temple
Arab, I rap with my hands in the air
I rap about my past, my experiences, the brothers under lock and key
All the families at the bottom of the hole, in two and a half, I rap in fucking wheel
I rap about the raids, the big searches and the brothers without a dime
In the hood, the snow in the brothers' noses, I rap for winter sports
I rap about my success, my defeats, the zenith, the party room
I rap heart to heart, I rap head to head
Never reconciled, sawed bars, sawed barrel
Hey, hey, hey it's Fouiny Baby don't forget
I rap about my father's tears, my banker's smile
In memory of my mother, I'm going to make them all pay
Han Ninety-four is Barça
As the buddy Kery says, Seventy-eight is Syria (it's Syria)

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

I rap my thoughts, my fury, my stable, killings
The bars of Baumettes, the yoyo throws of Fleury
I rap about the misfortune of my loved ones, also to fill my pockets
I rap about the state's neglected ones who are full of reproaches
My brothers who hold the pavement, those who have never drooled
I rap for those at the bottom of the slope who have many trials to brave
I rap Bagneux its inhabitants, nine-two-two residents
What matters is the end of the match, not the halftime score
I rap for all those who take the trouble to listen to me
For you, I rack my brains trying to make heavy verses
I rap to make an impression, everything I live I describe
I can only see things big, there's no more little here
I rap for the good livers, I rap the prison vans
I rap for the conscious people and those who don't have the form
Even if it's now that I bite, I can't change course
I can put my voice in Pop, your MCs know that I rap

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

I rap for those in isolation, the heart stuck in the neighborhood
Between the cops and me the current doesn't pass, they just tased me
I rap for those who sell white, weed or grudge
If there are no more bullets in the charger, we'll hit you with the gun
A childish anger, I rap I don't have a penny
I'm the rapper who's hungry so the prisoners canteen me
Descendant of a slave, I know that the State is leading us on
Don't talk to me about the dad or I'll cry like Sakho
Punchline eclipse, I rap the moon and the sun
A friend who leaves when it shoots is a friendship that jams
I've been rapping since the beginning and I know it's over for them
Me, it's Bondy, Grigny, Vini it's Fouiny's little one
I rap, I'm on wiretap, in my flow there's reverb
When my life will have no more gas, I wonder what death has in store for me
(I wonder what death has in store for me)

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

When the street writes, Fouiny Babe raps
When the street writes, Baby raps
When the street writes, Soultouane raps
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac
We lived like Marlo, we die like Tupac

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