{ Chorus }
All day long , we talk about guns & biatches
Variety music's hating , we're squatting in the top of the charts
Thugs take the mic , they can't ignore our hits
Competition can't help it anymore , man we eat it like chips , like ..
We will end up at Ardisson's , Fogiel's or Cauet's ( French TV shows )
We will go all around the world , we will pass by Korea
You've put some Gucci fragrance from Barbes ( black market Parisian district ) on your body
& Pshiit Pshiit Pshiit , you still stink
When I got into rap , I was told I have to be black
I wanted to do pop , I was told I have to be white
I've drown my worries in a glass of whisky
How weird it is , an Arab who doesn't like rai
Yeah , there's no reason to cry
I've slapped rap & confessed it
Listen up , that's for all the haters
My security is Yugoslavian
{ Chorus }
You , for the locked up brothers
You , forced to shut their mouth
You , for the angry brothers
You , we can't say it so .. ( x2 )
Get the bottles up , the Lamborghinis
Miss open your garage so I can park my Audi
Bolognaise flavour , she's got some taste for risk
Spread your legs , taste my chip
She's done , she goes out alot ,
She got caught yesterday at the barbecue party
At 200km/h speed on the belt with my real girl
On the back seat , paprika flavour
{ Chorus }
Making do with what we've got , we get out of the crap , we sort out
We only want to fill the hearts , we don't give a damn about golden discs ( x3 )
{ Chorus }