It's the Insomniac, in dark circles and in sixteen

I sweat verses, I cry prose
Posthumous flowers I lay
On Azzedine's grave, may
He rest in peace
Today it's for him that I explode
To you who dream of seeing my belly open
Only God can stop me, I come from far
I'm the jaguar in the hollow
Of the half-open branches
La Fourche, La Tour, La J, Saint-Ouen gate
It gets on your nerves to hear
What the prosecutor says
It messes up a hen between two roosters
Problems don't come alone like
The station master
Fold the rap game and finish off the boss
Sigh a cloud of resentment in the stages
Only dirty punchlines
Since I was a kid
My face it's time to bring out the S-Line
Without locking up his own like Rick Ross
So much anger shitted under the big top
I was born in the sand
I'm going to build a castle
Know that an ounce of insolence is enough
To blow you up on the spot bico
Taken by insomnia because the day harms me
Because I think of my dad in the hospitals
Whispers at the foot of the bed 6
Months I haven't slept
I wander the streets of the siete cinco
It's the sère-mi I don't have
The pretty face
I'm skillful and crazy I'm the
Bullet and I'm the gun
Bico, my heart stopped beating
I admit I often have trouble
Controlling my pride
My look says a lot behind my re pai
This year there's bread on
The coffin board
Badly tanned melanin, badly loved, badly seen, badly sniffed
Sing the street at a frantic pace
I'm pissed off biko, I'm bad
(Ahou), my words testify (Ahou)
Of the lack of money
The handcuffs tighten my wrists (Ahou)
From the street to the prison
(Ahou), from La Fourche to L'Allée (Ahou)
Everyone is dead
Everyone dreams of getting away (Ahou)
Biko, I'm bad
(Ahou), my words testify (Ahou)
Of the lack of money
The handcuffs tighten my wrists (Ahou)
From the street to the prison
(Ahou), from La Fourche to L'Allée (Ahou)
Everyone is dead
Everyone dreams of getting away (Ahou)

Until the last breath there's hope
Maybe one day you
Will know my story
Of my existence I'm the star
To conquer without peril, I triumph without glory
It's strange but in our house the
Remorse is not born
Because we are far from the sun of the Tropics
At the bottom of the Seine bodies of lances ba
The people are far from having
A peaceful sleep
All housed on the edge of decay
Justice limps and hatred is blind
Even if it means drowning in a bath of violence
In the nets of the BAC
We make our confessions
So much trouble in a row that time
Flies at the speed of light
In a thick smoke
Destiny takes turns without a blinker
I sneak in from behind like a young ferret
Dealers don't all end up in the Bahamas
These days it's hard to dodge the cops
But I remain a leader at Ferhat Abbas
Even locked in the back of the decor
So listen to my theory mothafuckin' asshole
Disputes are settled with a
Baseball bat
Anxious mother afraid we'll eat a bullet
Nostalgic I think of L'Arnak and the S-Kro
Look there's money in the air baby
Outside it's raining hate and from the
Paths of evil I desert quickly
Before the Angel of Death gives me an appointment
The vultures don't want
To see me get up, biko
Jealousy disgusts me so much
The insomniac doesn't need to
Sleep to dream
Give me glory I've been waiting for it
For so long biko, I'm bad
(Ahou), my words testify (Ahou)
Of the lack of money
The handcuffs tighten my wrists (Ahou)
From the street to the prison
(Ahou), from La Fourche to L'Allée (Ahou)
Everyone is dead
Everyone dreams of getting away (Ahou)
Biko, I'm bad
(Ahou), my words testify (Ahou)
Of the lack of money
The handcuffs tighten my wrists (Ahou)
From the street to the prison
(Ahou), from La Fourche to L'Allée (Ahou)
Everyone is dead
Everyone dreams of getting away (Ahou)

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