Ten fractures, six sprains
It strengthens but I've learned to love the benefits of 'ken
Nozbone board, size 8.5
For my big ankles, I have extra comfort
Big flow, big pieces
Never has such a good rapper really skated
Feeble front, hardflip, never a real skater
Had been so strong in rap, hey

I move on a skateboard
Chris Cole's hobo style
I'm hungry, I have no money
Music in my ears, I think I'm in San Francisco
It makes you immortal, above others, you have to roll to believe it
I feel immortal, you have to roll to believe it

Antoine, he was a real piss drunk
That's what the signs say
I've already broken everything five times
New board, new wrists, I didn't read the instructions
Today, it's going to skate like an autistic
I'm in shape, I've eaten six steaks
I go down the street like at the end of the sixties
I'm real, not a pissy girl in cystitis mode
Fuck the rules, fuck the system
Roll a big sausage of weed
Too much energy in me to sit down
I stay standing, I'm always well wedged like a feeble
On a road trip from Marseille to Marbella
There are sessions for which I would have blown my pay
Jumping a hundred times the same steps shouting "it's bad"
But I continued until the scabs on my arms got tired
It's magic, imagine
I tightened my jeans on the sewing machine
To look like Bryan Herman

Baker 3
Baker 3, nigga y all know it's gon' bang ya over the head nigga
Valentin, '69 kit, what's up?
Well, you fuck wit' Baker 3, that's what you get (hey)

When I was little, skateboarding was only cool in the States (yeah)
We lived in an uncultured country (yeah)
Dressing well, ultra expensive
Every trip, I had a real thrasher style
But I never had enough to buy a sweater (never)
Logo on the t-shirt drawn with Posca
We filmed all our sessions, until we deserved an Oscar
Ask Jessy, the Bloby's, Kamel or Claude
How many spots we've turned around the globe
The more peaceful we were, the more we were bothered like Aunt Danielle
There were always fools who wanted to steal our basket (hey)
A long piece of wood, two pieces of iron, four hard rubbers
It's not their arms that won

I move on a skateboard
Chris Cole's hobo style
I'm hungry, I have no money
Music in my ears, I think I'm in San Francisco
It makes you immortal, above others, you have to roll to believe it
I feel immortal, you have to roll to believe it

I spend my nights spitting blades at the studio
People are so small, it lifts my soul above
Skateboarding was the same except when it turned us on to death
It wasn't fashionable yet, damn
Today, it's hype but I'm too old for medals
And I feel bad if I don't drink a lot of water in the morning
That's my kryptonite, that's my garlic
I didn't do Thai boxing
But I have shins that look like bread knives
Fashions and brands don't pass the magma
Who knew the knot in the stomach on the four blocks of MACBA?
Certainly not all these sad followers
I fuck everything Justin Bieber tweets, I dance like Oliver Twist

When I blow a fuse
Everyone will expect it
I'm starting to look like
Those sad purists that I hate in rap
So stop me before I become shit
Please, stop me
It's not me, it's human nature

(Baker, Baker, Baker)

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