[Intro]
Well I know, Mom! But still ... it's my song! And ... that's my song! So let me sing what I want in my song! I want to sing my song, that's all!
[Verse 1]
It's the return of the man that the ladies love
I fucked your wife, your mother, your sister, and your labrador
I hate racism, queers and dirty streaks
I wasn't really sad at the death of Charles Trenet
Dethrone us: must train without dragging
We are crazy, and we tend to engrainer ourself
O.R.E.L. is like Santa without sleigh
There's beautiful things in his backpack, but it's no gift
I have chicks in all zip codes
And I will not try to confuse you if you have beefy buddies
I put bombs, as if I were George W. Bush
When I rap my niggas bounce, and all the sluts open their mouths
I'm too cool, like Cookies featuring Cursed Crew
I'm a gangster and I kill people when I listen Mobb Deep
I have too many chicks, I don't remember the one I throw
I have too much ego, I shout my name when I ejaculate
Also in the moon, fuck, this child is rather special
Me, I don't give a shit, I put wheels on my spaceship
I had to create my own style to disgust the mockers
My brain told me: "Shut up!" ; I chose to listen to my heart
[Refrain]
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
You can't test with the invisible stars
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
Push your bottom speakers, push your bottom speakers
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
You can't test with the invisible stars
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
In the ceiling, in the ceiling, in the ceiling!
[Verse 2]
Fuck the police: I took Julie Lescaut in missionary
There's my face in photo at "MC" in the dictionary
O.R.E.L., The Infamous, The Misogynist
It's true that I tend to hit women since I started the Gin
My rap is not awesome, it's a trick that mutilates
You're like a bitch who don't swallow, you're basically useless
Anyway what you wanted to do with a voice so lame?
Faggot, you will not even become popular in your neighborhood
I'm the Fifth Element, hung like an elephant
I don't have changed, child, I already loved clog the slots
When I write, I put fined the Iliad and the Odyssey
I have more style than drugs that there were at high school
In industry, an asshole make crap, and all the sheep move
My rap is the bomb, as if Bush presses the red button
There's what? There's only to the microphone that I assault
But at least I'm moving as if I had changed address
Yeah I'm a gladiator, I heat the rooms like a radiator
Actor, songwriter, good squatter
From my own films, that I make in my head
Sorry guys but I hadn't seen that it was the party
[Refrain]
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
You can't test with the invisible stars
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
Push your bottom speakers, push your bottom speakers
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
You can't test with the invisible stars
Put your hands in the ceiling, push your bottom speakers
In the ceiling, in the ceiling, in the ceiling!