You are on Suburban FM
President of a radio, more coarse than courteous
Henry de Lesquen wants to become the next President of the French
In his parody of a program, he proposes to ban Black Music from the media
Supported, or authorized by the State
Obviously, for him, rap, this "filthy" music, is black music
Michel Audiard wrote: "idiots, they dare everything, and that's even how we recognize them"
These words have not left the world of rap indifferent
"Black Music" is therefore the title of the new song by rapper Kery James
The author of the very disturbing, but unifying, "Racailles"
Accompanied by Prim's Parolier and Lino, Kery James responds to Henry de Lesquen
And the least we can say is that the black poet does not hold back

A guy who writes for others, they call that a ghostwriter
A Black who soars above them, I call that an eagle
I had a nightmare, Martin Luther a dream
In my nightmare, I had slapped Michel Leeb
The most famous big lips
I feel beautiful, black, I rise, up to the high level

High level, the crowd we raise
The shit I put between Chaka Zulu and Twelve Year a Slave
My art is the sap, keep your "Yes we can"
If you reduce me to dance, to Kentucky Fried Chicken
Negro I disturb, I'm the nose of the exploded sphinx
Like Huey P. Newton, calibrated on a wicker throne

I came back to shock their quotas
Break the quotas of deep France
Tricart like Joker on Gotham
Like a big tag on the Mona Lisa
I tell that the Antilles are plundered by the metropolis
That my Africa is way too strong
And that the cops are often negrophobic
Strong is my music, imagine, fuck the Illuminati codes
Here no fragile negroes, red, yellow, khaki green
Sitting down, I took your place, I think I'm Rosa Parks
I think I'm Toussaint Louverture kicking Bonaparte's ass

Black Music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black Music
(Keep your "Yes we can")
We make black music
(I came back to shock their quotas, shock their quotas)
Black Music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black Music
(Keep your "Yes we can")

On the boulevard of life, I'm in the blind spot
A black man who defies them is a dead black man
Since the noise and the smell I feel that I disturb France
I take a tour at Guerlain, I put on perfume of violence
What arrogance, what insolence
Like Sarkozy in Dakar, I shock the audience
I don't feel more European than the pound sterling
I play my black man as soon as on the ground like Malcolm Sterling
Breathing too much rejection, I have a perforated lung
I could die of infection like a Traoré
Negrophobes like Alain Soral in a text message
Everywhere on the globe, it's hot to be a negro
The stories become

Stories become legends
Legends become myths
I roll sticks in the rims, Blacks, Kemites
Dirty black, reaper
I exceed the limits
I borrow the rocky voices
I burn like the sun at its zenith
Catchy my music has the middle finger raised
Look at what I'm confined to, the true from the false, I untangle
Dark attitude like these niggas out of Compton
And according to the Vatican, I deserved my chains
Dude, if I lie, Hell awaits me
I rekindle the fire of revolt
I burn Fernand Nathan's books
Kery told me "Bors, no blasphemy" I put the safety on
I rap my naked truth, like Crazy Horse
I hit without insulting them
Not calibrated for FM, acclaimed by the street
I move between the swastikas
The burnt crosses
To deliver, I have millions of fights
To shock the forces of evil
From below it's us France, negro, like Alexandre Dumas
Since primary school, their skull can't handle the sound of the tam-tam
Black music slits the nightingale's throat, our faces in prime time

Black music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black music
(Keep your "Yes we can")
We make black music
(I came back to shock their quotas, shock their quotas)
Black music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black music
(Keep your "Yes we can")
We make black music

Slave music for a feat
Here it's Kery James who invites me
Sector Ä, Simply Black
Threesome and Mafia K'1fry
I'll be the last one if there's only one left
I've crossed mean looks
Controversial in my verses
Like a Black M concert in Verdun
Since we are criticized in our fights
My negritude in a coma
Your press pretended well when Laurent Blanc talked about quotas
Na bangaka lisusu te
Ngai na bangaka butu te
Ngai na bangaka kaka nzambe
Ngai na bangaka mutu te

Neg lakay se sa mwen yé
Map rété la yo pe relé
Musique nou yo pa aimé
Coulè nou yo dénigré

West Indies, radical negro
Haiti, kingdom of Africa
Who will defend all our writings?
It's neither CRAN nor even LICRA
Prim's

Black music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black music
(Keep your "Yes we can")
We make black music
(I came back to shock their quotas, shock their quotas)
Black music
(Not calibrated for FM)
We make black music
(What insolence!)
Black music
(Keep your "Yes we can")
We make black music

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