WITHOUT REMISSION

CHORUS

From Mars we go on a crusade against the greedy state representing the so-called sensitive neighborhoods in France and Navarre
Watchful eye under firecracker we hunt the wealthy
Bombs Whiskey guys and it's off again we don't pretend to be teachers so we don't give lessons spitting words without remission on Funky sounds

1. (Sat)
Here the days pass, nothing really changes around
Tempting blows, guys gone for one-way trips
All attracted, or almost by the biz, bundles and butts, sex
Here and there, it's raiding cash drawers, what
What can you do against that
By constantly dangling, we just want what we see
The convoy, over there, the brinks feeds my dreams dozens of times
To believe that it brings more than respect for the law
Honest people are killing their health at ONET
The State is the biggest pimp, good biz, clean and neat
You have to hold on, stick together,
If only for our parents
Question francs, expect nothing from the rulers
Damn, what do you want me to say to the kids in front of me
Who make more money in a day than I do in a month
How to tell them to go back to high school
It's cross on the courses, run for the money and the spoiled
With the 12 carats, they fall into your arms
Go ahead, take out the 24 and you get the kamasutra
What argument to oppose to these pseudo idyllic lives?
The simple fact of having a clear conscience
They don't care much, as long as the cash delights,
They think they can run faster than bullets if the plan goes wrong
The morality today, it's me who gives it to you
Tomorrow maybe I'll try to elaborate the perfect plan
Temptation, look, you might be able to fight
The call of money, women,
Gasman, try your best to resist
My sins, I think I'll wash them later
For now, I do with what I have even if it pisses me off
I try to fight and I say well, I try
What do you want we are not spoiled MC's
Easy and foiled blows that bring big, bullshit
I leave that to Scorcese

CHORUS

2. (Don Choa)
I send on Fonkyson always the same concrete for horizon
Let's fuck this system that makes our life hard
Fury to win deep in the heart, convince and fight without fear
Overwhelmed with reproaches
Yet we defend our loved ones before our pockets
And the kids hook, the sound of the bad boy scoundrels
Don Choa Fonky Family team of relentless without remission
Why would we calm down? We don't live in palm groves
Don't fall asleep, keep an eye open, be ready kid
The strength is in your head, the power in your hands
I don't pretend to show the way
But it's today that we build tomorrow
I sow rhymes, too bad if I pass for crazy that I reap nothing
I stay Hip-Hop, soldier without ever lowering in front of the bundles
Like the rest of the populace
But it's only in dreams that I find myself in place nothing upon waking
Under a blazing sun represents from south to north
Expect nothing from the president, the State sleeps on a pile of gold

(Menzo)
The day is setting, microphone plugged in
FF live, get closer, reality
The fury, the faith, have to fuck the show
Dedication to the fake entry KO
Daddy Mahamadi with the family
It's hot, represents the mafia of the Comoros in a fucking decor
Rage in the body, he said loudly that we were dead
Bet on music, fight because it doesn't bring in money
Wait for the click for a more chic life
Smokes, women, if mgaie hemsa, I could voudsa
The music of France changed the trend
That the street has more chance, FF fucks the show
You can shout codo because the youth no longer has time to sleep
It's without remission that false vivions
In neighborhoods of France and Navarre, we fuck everything

CHORUS ad lib.

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