| And the elders will tell you
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| Barbès 89, it's raining under the porch
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| In my memory the light goes on like a flashlight
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| Out of school, the Eudémol fuck us on a sidewalk
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| It seems that in 2 or 3 years rue Léon they will make a square there
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| We squat in the evening on a bench and this until no time
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| I had a gang of homies and three gangs on a Challenger
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| The class photo has taken wrinkles since Georges Clemenceau
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| Only memories remain in the throat when we pick up the pieces
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| The lion cubs have become lions
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| We dream of a thousand and millions but above all not to become pawns
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| 90, too fast the kids grow up
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| We slalom between the police and the building that they demolish
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| In the back of our eyes, you'll see the state of things
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| The emotional desert, the families gone to the suburbs
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| Nobody wants to see their kid grow up in danger
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| And the elders will tell you the neighborhood has changed
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| You will tell me that the future is scary
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| False joys and real sorrows in us grow like flowers
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| I don't forget that they wanted to erase us
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| 93 even knocked out, we broke everything for Makomé
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| Don't forget that we all have a past
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| Memories piled up that we can't replace
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| Don't say it was the last time
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| Cousin I don't remember, that's all behind me
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| 95 Bezbar, an event changes my outlook
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| Remain engraved in my memory even engraved in my history
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| I will always remember Saint Bernard's Church
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| Of the undocumented, of their despair
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| Thousands of cameras in front of the square
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| Of all these stars who came to seek the Oscar
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| In the eyes of misery but far from being in the same boat
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| From a land of France that despises the foreigner
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| Uses him like a rag and ends up insulting him
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| 98 the Stan Smiths deserted
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| In the playgrounds the Air-Max are arriving
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| Generation we are motivated to grow
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| If you're looking for us, the gun on is ready to brandish it
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| We imitate the brothers in front of the square
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| It deals more hash but crack late at night
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| I scratch my leaves while the Goutte D'or is falling apart
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| God it's far away, my memory is deteriorating!
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| Bezbar 98, the neighborhood changes its face
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| The old buildings of 48 give way to HLM
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| Some are gone or come back and some are coming
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| At my parents I write raps, outside I try to make biffs
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| Little by little the population is changing its face
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| Hello boobies! |
| But to me it's a bad omen
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| The square meter increases, even the mint tea
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| The cops are on my street, for their security they want to fine us
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| 2000 arrives with its share of worries
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| Abbas left, a year after Mam's followed him
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| Souley in stride was scorched by a cop
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| It happened, I say it, it won't bring the eggs back
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| 2004 now in the neighborhood everywhere it raps
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| Me, I take out my maxi which finally arrives in the bins
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| More than ten years of activism and underground work
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| Today I'm preparing the album but puff because without the money you have nothing
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| Generations follow each other, don't look alike
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| My Beard is memory gathered us together
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| Here things change and take another detour
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| And sometimes it's the memory that plays tricks
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| Don't take your eyes off the past
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| Don't say it's filed
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| Don't forget this year
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| Here things change and take another detour
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| And sometimes it's the memory that plays tricks |