This is the life of a young person from Paname or the blues suburbs
You want some fresh news for you, I preach the good word
I play in 9.3 where young people talk about guns,
cash, cash and Marie Jeanne
Dry lit under the porch, we keep fishing
even with holes in our pockets
Wesh, since the time I've been rapping, I've seen friends
go to heaven, others come back from hell
And I hit even harder, telling myself that even if tomorrow
I slam I have to slap a sound for my clique
I burst oinj on oinj and I scratch the notepad
with piles of bad notes granted like piles of scraps
The weather is getting bad the sky is often gray feel the drops falling
It is God who cries on our heads because the chestnut weighs us down
We drink, we smoke, we biz, we fuck, we show off,
We unfortunately express ourselves too often through crime
Chorus
Sex, violence, rap and flooze
br/>Sex, violence, rap and flooze
Sex, violence, rap and flooze
This is the life of a young person from Paname or the blues suburbs
It's like a film from action that runs 24 hours a day where we play our own roles
Without special effects since we really die, we really bleed
We really shoot ourselves, we really suffer and we're really going to jail
And not really at school anymore we prefer to hang out, smoke, or try alcohol
Sex, violence, rap et flooze, that's what we're thinking
You know for us luck has become a reward here
Just thinking about that! Nothing that encourages you to get out of it, especially if
Like us you go out late, too late to hope to get up early
Find a job, a girl will knock her up
and leaving the ghetto we weren't spoiled on the cake
Yet we won't end up in the metro with a guitar
I I don't give a damn except rap, there's nothing that makes
I could have been a good guy so listen:
Do what you have to do if you ken sans pot-that's none of my business
but be careful who you're dealing with
We're all branded from Paname to the blues suburbs
Shit , sex, violence, rap and flooze
Chorus
Because my eyes are red like the blood of my adversaries
Because my heart beats my blood mud and my faith holds me stand up brother
It's the life we u200bu200blead, it's the life we u200bu200blove
This desire to ken this system which makes NTM say to the cop, < br/>to the mayor, the minister and the president
For a young resident here, man, it's obvious
Walk while avoiding syringes,
lost gun bullets we get used to it with the times
And the pressure mounts like a pitts fight
It feels like we're in Seven and it's you playing Brad Pitt bad trip In the zone
We're breaking the ozone layer, we can't stay calm
when we're taken for donkeys
So we become aggressive when there's no work, no of tune,
no heaps, except unemployment, crisis and dass
Fewer eggs, less eggs, more eggs, more eggs in his-pri
br/>No more mothers crying and fathers praying
Chorus
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