I started my career as a dog, without any purpose
Recognized behind the tinted glass, without any doubt
The tall black guy in a vest who targeted me
As soon as I see one like him I shit myself, I'm traumatized
I ask for a minute of dancehall
For all our victims
I soften the manners with C4
For the cains-fri the big team
Welcome to my zone
Where the khos kill each other
For money and bitches
The bad roles maintain each other
When I unleash hell like Maximus
I distribute hate
The Colombian in each sinus
Freak out because we don't mince our words
We put the pits before the cart
My sound doesn't walk, negro
It runs or it stops
If you don't like it, you pack up quickly
Your harmless voice
And me, you know, I don't understand the beat
Of those who didn't respect any rules
Explodes like in Gaza or Tel Aviv
Apart from Attila, no role model to follow

MCs like us
There won't be any as soon
I speak so violently
That I could lose a tooth, hurry up
Pass me the loot, money makes them naughty
I killed Calimero with a bullet in the shell
The crime is vocal, radical
Fill the jerrycan with gasoline
Send the competition to the medical
Hard to control my impulses like Doum's
When the dog hits the butt
Brah' no time to say phew
Like Nino Brown and G-Money
I only dream of assassination, of ceremony
At any moment the dream runs away, ask Michael
Appetite comes with eating, or with starving, my mouth
In the middle of exercising my functions
9.2 I the army of 6, I'm talking about tears and numbers
Big numbers
I'm talking about us from the neighborhood
Our hieroglyphs
If there's a foul no one whistles

Dakar or Marrakech, killing
MC of the worst kind
A.k.A the flow that stabs
Those to whom evil smiles
Hits at his place at her place
Is it 9-2-I who arrives or the G.I.G.N?
You're still wondering who deflowers the Genelec
On stage with DJ Kore or DJ Belleck
We make them go up and down
A bit like Otis, it does our sorrows on one leg
We go out in 4 wheel drive

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