Drop it, drop it, drop it, drop it, drop it
Drop the mic, my rap comes from my guts
My rap carries a scar, my rap comes from my cuts
My rap has a stature, a build, a charisma
A voice, a thought, it's French, not American
My rap comes from the basements, bro, half moon zoo bro
Orlyhood black, not Hollywood
My rap has something too real
That transcends the bros, inspires them to progress
My rap, it's poor man's rap, "tfou" rap
On your govs, and your loves
Only faith can save you on the Last Day
My rap has a belief, I rap, I rap with my eyes closed
But my rap has a clairvoyance
My rap has its flaws, but it walks towards the light
The truth remains, as long as we remain, it is only ephemeral
20 years my hard rap lasts, breaks down walls
Fractures doors and femurs
My R-A-P, head held high, chest puffed out
Chest swollen with courage, ready to fall, succumb
At the service of ours, because it's the rap of sacrifices
The infantryman at the front, facing the raps of artifices
It's the rap of real men, valiant warriors
Who would like to take from the State, and redistribute to the unfortunate
It's the rap of commitment, the pride of the suburbs
And in fact, it's the only rap they surely fear in high places
There's no more money in France, since the euro, we just survive
Don't be surprised if the atmosphere is explosive
The new rich are rare, like species
Normal, the taxman has trapped the social elevator
Everyone cheats, not to win, but to exist
Everyone borrows, no one buys
Almost everyone is in debt
Students prostitute themselves, everyone is hungry
Take your money out of the banks, stash it under the bed, it's the end
Our little brothers sell dope, snort coke, are violent
Insolent, convinced that you can only get rich by stealing
Blacks and Arabs fill the prisons
I make rap that offers them another horizon
I have my reasons and I'm right
I'm live from the street, it's the return of realistic rap
There's no room here for your capitalist rap, capi-capi-capitalist
Selfish and narcissistic, you and always you, in your individualistic rap

Pop pop, it's the return of French rap, pop pop pop
It's the return of the dark black, hard, firm, frank, proud, strong
Hardcore, until death
Pop pop, it's the return of French rap, pop pop pop
It's the return of the dark black, hard, firm, frank, proud, strong
"Hardcore", "Until death"
Pop pop, it's the return of French rap, pop pop pop
It's the return of sensible rap, hard, firm, frank, proud, strong
"Hardcore", "Until death"

Let them put down the mic, their rap only knows how to show off
Ego-trip, that's all their rap can express
It's a masquerade ball, why is their rap in costume?
I make French rap, and it's the rap of the oppressed
Their rap is big-headed, revolves around itself
Meanwhile, I write lyrics that get my brothers out of the system
My rap has a conscience, a science, and common sense
That's why it tends to never follow the trend
Don't look for it in the herd
My rap is a leader, without scroll or vocoder, with modesty and depth
My rap, a warrior with a tear
My rap, a pacifist with a weapon
Yeah, I'm a resistor, I have love for Palestine, I'm an activist
I still have a lot to learn, I'm just a student
But since there are a lot of ignorant people, I'm a teacher
I have no choice, as Bene says, I carry a youth on my back
Someone take my place, because the burden is heavy
Short are the euphorias, but constant are the trials
Those who do nothing are right, I'm wrong because I work
A break, beat, a sample, an mc, I'm Hip Hop despite myself
A B-Boy without the baggy
You don't understand my rap? You're deaf, you're like Nagui
Making hits without content, I can't, I leave that to Shaggy
Since my first lyrics, I've opposed the state
Between the system and me, it's always been Vendetta
Insubordinate I've always been in the fight
Before I made rap, I did ragga, remember
I don't want to go to military service
For them I don't want to make war, for a piece of land
No thanks I don't want to go to millilitre service
There's nothing to do there, and in my neighborhood it's already war

Pull Up!
Since my lyrics have content, I can rap them a cappella
Gently swing the charley, so I can make the favelas vibrate
Now, blow up the snare drum, even if it's not dirty
It's dirty revolutionary rap, yeah!
It's the return of French rap
Pushing brothers to think, progress and move forward
Barely a year later, I'm doing it again, already
I'm too inspired, I'm too hungry for real p-ra, ahh
2009, new album, gotta deal with it
On Nino's prod', I plan to leave you miles behind
No respite, no quarters, no breaks, no mercy, MC, pose

Put down the mic, your rap wears ballet shoes
While my star shines, in the color of hemoglobin
A shoe for Bush, a big spit for Putin
I represent the brothers they oppress
My rap is African, because my rap has a memory
I'm like Madame Taubira, I aspire to know our history
Rappers only talk about money, they are hostages of the system
I don't care what you earn, what matters to me is what you share
Make a ner-tour, in the cells, Kery James is back
Mc falls or backs up, Mafia K'1 Fry, Street Lourd
In the shadow of show business, the sun has risen
It's the return of the real, it's the return of French rap

Pop-pop, it's the return of French Rap, pop-pop-pop-pop
It's the return of the dark r-noi, hard, firm, frank, proud, strong
Hardcore until death
Pop-pop, it's the return of French Rap, pop-pop-pop-pop
It's the return of sensible rap, hard, firm, frank, proud, strong
Hardcore until death

As soon as I get in the booth, it-it smells like a classic
I rap so well, they say I rap badly
As soon as I get in the booth, it-it smells like a classic
Rappers drop Hip-Hop, for Tecktonick
I rap, you don't even know what I have in store
Hardcore until death
As soon as I get in the booth, it-it smells like a classic
You-you feel that the next album is going to hurt, really hurt!

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