Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Les crayons de couleurs, artist - Lartiste. Album song Comme avant, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.10.2020
Record label: Zayn Corporation distribué par Because
Song language: French
Les crayons de couleurs(original) |
Yeah, yeah, yeah |
Ouais, ouais |
C’est l’histoire d’une petite fille, sur le chemin de l'école |
Qui se jouait de la vie avec c’qu’elle trouvait sur le sol |
On vit une sale époque, mais ça personne n’lui a dit |
On vit une sale époque, mais ça personne n’lui a dit |
Et puis, et puis, et puis, épuise les crayons de couleurs |
Laisse place au rouge à lèvre, laisse place au eye-liner |
Les chauffeurs de taxi complice, les embrouilles au mac do' le soir |
Les caches, caches avec la police qui se termineront bien trop tard |
Elle voudrait colorier, colorier |
Sa vie de merde elle voudrait l’colorier |
Car là-dedans y a pas d’laurier, pas d’laurier |
C’est vrai qu’il t’dit: «Je t’aime», mais il ne l’fait qu’sur l’oreiller |
On l’appelle: «Puta"ou «Bébé», «Puta"ou «Bébé» |
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l’appelle: «Bébé» |
On l’appelle: «Puta"ou «Bébé», «Puta"ou «Bébé» |
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l’appelle: «Bébé» |
C’est l’histoire d’Alcafemor, sur le chemin de l'école |
Ou de sacré gros porcs, mettent leur main sur son épaule |
Son épaule est si fragile, mais ça on n’lui a pas dit |
Les lumières de la ville ne sont pas celle du paradis |
Et puis, et puis, et puis, épuise les crayons de couleurs |
Elle repense à ses crayons de couleurs |
C’est l’histoire d’une petite fille, sur le chemin de l'école |
Qui se jouait de la vie, mais au final c’est pas très drôle |
On l’appelle: «Puta"ou «Bébé», «Puta"ou «Bébé» |
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l’appelle: «Bébé» |
On l’appelle: «Puta"ou «Bébé», «Puta"ou «Bébé» |
Mais quand on lui donne du respect, on l’appelle: «Bébé» |
Ouais on l’a condamné, dès le départ c'était téléphoné |
Y avait les catas, y avait ces p’tits frères et ces petites sœurs |
Sa maman malade, le crédit à cinq barres |
Personne n’se tara, à par la vice ouais, ouais |
J’vous raconte même pas ouais, ouais |
Quand ils rentraient du bar ouais, ouais |
C’est une sale histoire ouais, ouais |
Une sacrée histoire ouais, ouais |
En blanc en noire ouais, ouais |
Qu’elle voudrait colorier |
Elle voudrait colorier, colorier |
Dans sa vie pas de laurier, rien d’glorieux |
Elle voudrait colorier |
Elle voudrait colorier |
Elle voudrait colorier, colorier |
Sa vie de merde elle voudrait l’colorier |
Car là-dedans y a pas d’laurier, pas d’laurier |
C’est vrai qu’il t’dit: «Je t’aime», mais il ne l’fait |
Qu’sur l’oreiller |
(Elle voudrait colorier…) |
(translation) |
Yeah, yeah, yeah |
Yeah yeah |
This is the story of a little girl, on her way to school |
Who played life with what she found on the floor |
We live in a bad time, but that nobody told him |
We live in a bad time, but that nobody told him |
And then, and then, and then, run out the crayons |
Make way for lipstick, make way for eyeliner |
The accomplice taxi drivers, the scrambles at mac do' in the evening |
Caches, caches with the police that will end way too late |
She would like to color, color |
Her shitty life she would like to color it |
'Cause there's no laurel in there, no laurel |
It's true that he says to you: "I love you", but he only does it on the pillow |
It is called: "Puta" or "Baby", "Puta" or "Baby" |
But when we give him respect, we call him: "Baby" |
It is called: "Puta" or "Baby", "Puta" or "Baby" |
But when we give him respect, we call him: "Baby" |
This is the story of Alcafemor, on the way to school |
Or damn big pigs, put their hand on his shoulder |
His shoulder is so fragile, but we didn't tell him that |
City lights ain't the lights of heaven |
And then, and then, and then, run out the crayons |
She thinks back to her colored pencils |
This is the story of a little girl, on her way to school |
Who played with life, but in the end it's not very funny |
It is called: "Puta" or "Baby", "Puta" or "Baby" |
But when we give him respect, we call him: "Baby" |
It is called: "Puta" or "Baby", "Puta" or "Baby" |
But when we give him respect, we call him: "Baby" |
Yeah we condemned it, from the start it was telephoned |
There were the cats, there were these little brothers and these little sisters |
His sick mom, five bar credit |
No one will go wrong, except for vice yeah, yeah |
I don't even tell you yeah, yeah |
When they come home from the bar yeah, yeah |
It's a dirty story yeah, yeah |
One hell of a story yeah, yeah |
In white in black yeah, yeah |
That she would like to color |
She would like to color, color |
In his life no laurel, nothing glorious |
She would like to color |
She would like to color |
She would like to color, color |
Her shitty life she would like to color it |
'Cause there's no laurel in there, no laurel |
It's true that he says to you, "I love you", but he doesn't |
What on the pillow |
(She would like to color…) |