Puncture their tires every day, the snitches end up moving
I wouldn't hang myself in custody even if I kept my shoelaces
Twisted mind dude, I'm just a monster in human form
I want to throw money at the dealer without filling out a form
I'm the kind of guy your bitch follows
If I pull up to the technical control, need a UFOlogist
Every day, I talk about money but some things are priceless
Some die in the street for a quarter brick
So I need to make more than my worst enemy
Listening to Siberian Cactus in Ribéry's Brabus
Old school, I would have fucked Tabatha near Malaga
Because I only want cash like the Greeks who don't take the card
You say you break necks like Li Jet
But I saw you, I know you're wallflower like Gillette
I've been around the class, French rap on my pair of Clarks
I go to Morocco for a cup of tea, to Berlin for a shot of schnapps

I've been around the atlas, I've been around the atlas
I didn't look where the class is, French rap under my Clarks
I've been around the atlas, I've been around the atlas
I didn't look where the class is, French rap under my Clarks
I go around the city, I go around the city
Her hips are wide, it's long to go around my bitch, yeah
I go around the city, I go around the city
Her hips are wide, it's long to go around my bitch, yeah

In the bag, everything is green like the Boston Celtics
Dude, I can't lose mom orders me to be rich
You are amateurs, we arrive pro like Chelsea
Only Gucci logos and Fendi logos
Stop talking about wars or threatening, you're never going to do it
My team is going to bomb you like the air force
We're going to eat like kings
Never seen before like a toothless penguin biting its fingers
You invent a lot of lives, by the way, you're soft like sandwich bread
We, it's fake shot, full goal like in Saint-Denis
In the ul-c to your mothers, you're not part of the camp
We arrive like Gustave Flaubert and Maxime Du Camp
Rolex, Breitling, we don't want Casio
Mafia style like in Ajaccio, we can turn you into carpaccio
I've been around the class, French rap on my pair of Clarks
I go to Morocco for a cup of tea, to Me-Da for some grass

I've been around the atlas, I've been around the atlas
I don't look where the class is, French rap under my Clarks
I've been around the atlas, I've been around the atlas
I don't look where the class is, French rap under my Clarks
I go around the city, I go around the city
Her hips are wide, it's long to go around my bitch, yeah
I go around the city, I go around the city
Her hips are wide, it's long to go around my bitch, yeah

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