| The feeling that the Earth is no longer turning round, that it's going to hell
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| And what to do when the real ones become
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| Swellings. The atmosphere is impure and the defeat is palpable, the little pe
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| take themselves for
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| Men and very early already start to speak badly. |
| Our darons are from
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| France who get up early, we like those who weigh big and we
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| Adore crooks. |
| Our little brothers don't even know where they're going anymore but they
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| Have the potential for success but waste it in jail, and my vision
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| She is dark, we lack soldiers and heroes and the brothers
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| Scatter because of the scarcity of the euro. So I impose what
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| I represent, without staging, with my head held high and proud even if we have
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| Lost the presidential
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| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
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| But where are they going? |
| it's crazy
|
| When our setbacks plunge us into hate
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| We keep a hope even drown in pain
|
| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
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| But where are they going? |
| I've seen enough kids get lost in war
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| I represent, I sing for my street to change
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| My little brother reaches out but still gets the same cramps
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| And the street tempo that always follows the same sample
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| The deal and the crime of influential examples
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| A little brother crosses another little brother and then crashes him
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| So I sing (so I sing) for my hood, for your hood
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| To rest in peace the souls of your bugs, of our bugs
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| And no stars, but with what we live there's enough to write a book
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| Forgetting past mistakes leads to reliving them
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| We're free but the noose is tightening, too many of my bros are getting lost
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| Those who matter in the game prefer to be silent
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| It is for our darons before us who have suffered too much, our young people in
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| Crime far too often get the wrong war
|
| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
|
| But where are they going? |
| it's crazy
|
| When our setbacks plunge us into hate
|
| We keep a hope even drown in pain
|
| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
|
| But where are they going? |
| I've seen enough kids get lost in war
|
| I represent, I sing for my street to change
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| Of my hood, of your hood (you remain in our hearts) of your bugs, of my
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| Bougs (your souls rest in peace) from your hood, from my hood (the scale is
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| Too high, our daronnes cried too much, you stay in our
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| thoughts) of your bugs, of my bugs (you remain in our hearts) of your hood, of my
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| Hood (why does violence attract violence? I think of our
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| Little brothers who left for nothing
|
| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
|
| But where are they going? |
| it's crazy
|
| When our setbacks plunge us into hate
|
| We keep a hope even drown in pain
|
| Like a feeling of rage and my little ones are getting old
|
| But where are they going? |
| I've seen enough kids get lost in war
|
| I represent, I sing for my street to change |