| One more text, you way I have nothing to do special
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| Apart from smoking, drinking and rapping you about my sixteen bestials
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| My team is al brother, don't say you haven't seen
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| We stay the same, we won't dare to touch money
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| And fuck your period?, I don't give a fuck about getting famous
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| The style I elevate, send bastos, celestial rhymes
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| Want to test us? |
| Ok well take the mic and shut us up
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| It's the year 2010 it's gonna hit your headphones
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| I give it my all, it's only at the studio that I arrive right on time
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| Who's got the eye? |
| The good for veski the cops you on time
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| I remember when I wanted the 7 crystal balls
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| Since time passes and you have to avoid asthma attacks
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| We puff like a drunken sailor
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| We put in the effort but we don't get a dime
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| We'll carry on, scream louder as long as there's a breath left
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| 'Cause we only have that and time flies so fast
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| Our states of health are as sad as our civil states
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| Our sound goes so loud, it resonates all the way to the palate
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| The biggest gangster is often the guy who doesn't look like it
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| A goal: to drive away in a Porsche or Subaru
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| But know that I won't pick up anyone on my way
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| I'm not listed on the stock market, in my corner I'm drunk alone
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| This is for those who hang out in salacious bars
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| La Smala raps, the heat rises, turn on the fan
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| I rap and I articulate, it's not a ventriloquist show
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| Not too much taste for life, I've lost its aromatics
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| It's a bad trip like seeing Cesar on the mic
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| If it hurts, it's people judging and commenting on you
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| Don't do this and that, and what's dirty is that basically I walk around
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| La Smala, crazy team, in our heads it's Chernobyl
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| We like what we do but the fucking problem is that it costs our business a lot
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| And we lay you down all over your line don't complain about what's happening to you
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| Brussels, the desert island, boats and castaways are adrift
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| There's nothing that inspires me anymore, the truth I fear the worst
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| In the trash, punchlines that don't mean anything
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| It's from Brussels, hey yeah, it's heavy fire
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| Nobody laughs at my jokes, I must not have the same humor as them
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| It's free, even if there's no money to be refused
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| I'm from La Smala, I should show off a little more, excuse me
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| There's a few things I had to tell you
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| Money, fame and talent covet jealousies
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| I'm a loafer, yesterday I did things but I don't know what
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| I'm stubborn, y'all can point your finger at me
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| Way I don't give a damn, that's not what will make us stop
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| When La Smala che-cra, don't act like you don't know it's dirty
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| And what, I'm past the age of talking about bedos I think
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| Tomorrow I stop that but for now roll two, three
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| And they don't get it, they're all like "what the fuck did he say?"
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| Drop the guys, I believe Seyté believes in it
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| Apparently, me and my crew, we're disgusting
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| Volume 2 is coming, here it's takeoff
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| It will turn you upside down like absinthe in your stomach
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| Hey jester leave the rapping to the real MC's, ie us
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| And who will dispute it? |
| The Smala will fly like a microlight
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| The other rappers, they are whores so boo them
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| Ever since we found out, we ain't the same
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| And besides, I sleep a lot
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| It wouldn't even wake me up if you were playing with a darbouka
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| And it's dead, don't worry about my future, it's a bit late for that
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| I'm one of those who talk but don't do much
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| Don't give a fuck as much as writing at least it keeps me busy
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| We're like Mugiwara and his crew
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| We come to turn everything upside down, in an efficient way
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| Two Net tapes to give them, it's my legacy
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| Senamo he's gone, that's my epitaph
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| We work in the submarine
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| We don't give a fuck, we won't touch anything
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| Listen to it well, Brussels, ask you more where it comes from
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| It's for my people, all those who still wake up drunk in the morning
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| Hey move your hand, if you too in the evening the doubt reaches you |