07/03, hey, I received your letter from 25/02
Outside it's always the same shit, the cops and the rumors lurking
Trustworthy guys tell me they know the snitch
An old friend with whom we would have rapped
Anyway, we'll see later, Mounir told me
That you're sharing the cell with his brother, send him peace
Betrayed by reason when it was missing
Deceived by judges who never understood our lives
Deceived in prison and its walls for the years it took from you
Fooled by madness and its presence, everything is written
From birth and its cry to the shroud and its silence
Bro, my words won't be enough to saw your bars
But to strengthen your patience, you have to make it steel
Touré has good news, it could be
That Mala leaves Nanterre at the end of the month
Praises to the one who makes progress
You have to think about avoiding solitary confinement
So we see our faces at the next visit
How Booba that we say see you later

August 18, '98, in this fucking detention center
They tell me I'm getting out soon, apparently
I'm not Snoop, I rap, they don't care, you know what they told me?
I have to work so that the bitch gives me the condi'
Khami the sère-mi like spending the holidays in the tard-mi
I think and without my zoula, impossible to sleep
Listen Ali, it's going to get better soon, I think
I hang out with two or three guys from 9-3
At our enemies there are more people, they don't send me a mandate
Why do I write crazy texts, they wonder
By the way, it seems that the music industry has bled
And that the blacks keep signing
I saw the others in the visiting room, it seems that they chat
Of course always the same bitches, it smells like a trap, my ball
Now I behave myself, because in solitary confinement it smells like a stretcher
And I dream of fucking the nurse, negro
I fell so low, that to talk about it I would have to hurt my back
Fucking bastard rhyme
Anyway, when I get out, bring me a little bitch, stupid, aimless
I'll make her scream with my long dick
When we're going to kick it's going to be tragic, panic at the clinic
Magical, it's 11'43 my 'zique
Otherwise in my cell, I do push-ups, I write texts, I work
And on the walls I have pictures of 'tasses
And the guard is watching me, keychain for life
Yes, yes, their mothers are prostitutes
Now I know I can count on who
Thanks for your help, I'll survive, it's not the bled or Turkey
Jail is pressure, feeds the instinct of revolution
So fuck its mother reintegration
They don't know if I should have been born
Let them go fuck themselves, I want to become what I should have been
More weeks alone, fuck the FM alone
All like hyenas in heat of bitches behind chains
It's ugly that we get there
To forget come Saturday let's talk about this life
Tell the leaders, and their kids
That we have chrome hands, dollar green eyes, gun so that the cops don't idle
Click, barbarian technique, sse-lai
I harass the judge, soon I'll tear the barbed wire
We have work, I lack ball and neck
Hey uncle, I'll make you taste the tuna pasta
We want the roro, only if God wants we will have it
For now I tear my sheets to make yo-yos
Salute the man, friend, peace to your soul, life
Continue, send fresh so I canteen

Finished, we're going home
I'm charging you with a real job, at the carpentry workshop
It's a paid job
How much?
25 cents an hour
There's no denying it, crime pays
Yeah, and it keeps you busy
See you later

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