I have verses that are both ruthless and loyal
I do what I want with the French language, I write incredible stuff
Number of fans and album sales, I have one of the best ratios
I turn on the radio when I doubt, I cut when I have my kids in the car
My girl wonders where I was last night, I was on my perch
I listened to this beat for the umpteenth time
It's not enough to wait your turn, rap is not a tontine
Rappers on C8, I wonder if it's a good sign
Bad times for lyrics but I wasn't born from the last storm
The audience wants characters, feuds and gimmicks
We have our Macrons, our Druckers, our Patrick Sebastiens
We have Mbappés, Tottis, Diabys, Eders
One of the few jobs you can do even when you didn't pass the baccalaureate
We have our Estrosis, we have our Jérôme Cahuzacs
French rap shows, you have to listen to the good ones
Otherwise I hope you like reggaeton
Master in MCing, I can walk with my head high in the street
I see fans waving at me, they say thank you
I encourage the young wolves but to be honest
I am the one you need to know if you claim to know

Buddy, I think the cops have sniffed me out
True Parisian, my Beretta, my beret
Enraged because a man says things as he thinks
Shipwrecked without an ocean, all stranded in Île-de-France
Every day, be the best of the best
Tattooed because we almost make frescoes of our lives
Keep going, you might get the leftovers
Paris stinks of the street, look at the faces of the guests

Boom bap of the thug, of the be-bom (of the be-bom)
It's Paris under the bombs, Paris under the bombs
It doesn't erase, it's sure, yeah

Wack MC, don't come and tell me the rules
To those who taught me to rap even indirectly
It's a requiem, tell them not to intervene
They don't know either ABN or my 75.0 19th
I'm a rare specimen, about to join the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
I only move with irremovable brothers
The street forms the ball like Chevtchenko at Dynamo Kiev
To those who rapped before I was born
Know that it still fights against Hitler Youth
It goes crazy for the umpteenth time
And my friends as well as my enemies like it, a horde is behind me
Without giving them a big moral, I give them the desire to undertake
I have Paris in my chest, Puglia and Eastern Europe in my blood
The feeling that I'm running out of time, a daily pressure like strangulation
And I don't play the gangsters
How many died while piloting?
How many bloody traces?
How many cases of imprisonment because of a caliber?
Nonsense in my mind
Epileptic, there's always something that captivates me
Respect the brothers who adore you, all those who esteem you
Making people believe you deal will not make you a good MC

It says 9-5 on the scale but there's no balance in the 9-5
It's only on white sandy beaches that we leave our prints
I'm going to tell you the height of the good sister
It's to live a virgin and die a saint
It's simple, even a virgin can screw you over
In my time for a down jacket, you took a cutter hit
Quartet of cutters in your earphones
What will your son's head look like? It depends on many factors
I'm the one who gives the time and the temperature
It's at the foot of the wall that we see the paint pots
For my brigands, the sky is pure
For migrants, the stopover is hard
I was scratching rhymes when you were scratching your ass (yes yes)
Better a hand full of ecus than two hands full of shit
Veni, vidi, whisky, I came, I drank, I don't remember
Understand my preference for Perrier
More punchlines than at a Berryer conference
I have scars, consequences for a warrior
The lease is black, very black like the Béruriers

I think the cops have sniffed me out
True Parisian, my Beretta, my beret
Enraged because a man says things as he thinks
Shipwrecked without an ocean, all stranded in Île-de-France
Every day, be the best of the best
Tattooed because our lives, we almost make frescoes of them
Keep going, you might get the leftovers
Sinik, Flynt, Jazzy Bazz and Seth Gueks

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