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Six-O-Nine 2005 S.I.N.I.K Malsain the Assassin Yoni, Néochrome, les freres Mezagua Les Ulis 2 6 Hall Yeah In Paris sh*t hits the fan, the shell casings fall in bursts You can get your photo taken by a groupie or the CCTV The ambulances wake us up, they transport me Suicidal people are happy when they visit the Eiffel Tower My bro, we are dangerous like a pitbull with no muzzle In Paris it's violence, it's music not museums The cops harass you, the feedback of the microphones The River Seine is full of corpses, you can go looking I could say that we've got the hottest sl*ts Most of our identities are masked by blocked numbers A tragic setting, imagine our supporters told you Paris is magic, when I'm away from home I feel sick Because I'm proud to have been born two steps from the Edge S.I.N.I.K Malsain the Assassin, Six-O-Nine Néochrome 2005, 91 Essonne, les Ulis zone, yo yo yo I smoke weed when I'm bored, I write, I run away It's difficult but I escape, I bury myself but I don't care Treated as crooks, judged by default Sad times: in 2005 Coluche still feeds the poor I admire the street through my f**ked up eyes You sons of b*t*hes abandoned me Don't live a life like mine Lost in my drafts, I read the sh*t I scribbled out I don't give a f**k about literature In the moonlight, I look at the details of the gun I compare an adult's life to conflict I'll never give a f**k about what they say My style is more like Kill Bill not Will Smith I reflected in prison, then I chose silence When I understood that I was misunderstood I get nicked every time, with or without Mr Vergès Because I've smoked more pigs than merguez Pressure shots, the inspectors are oppressors In Paris, the sky is fluorescent grey Smoking a joint, a glass of fruit Vodka sh*t goes bad, the shootings get worse That broken look, taken out by a fat blunt Locked away because I f**k Society In the parking lot sh*t gets chaotic I murdered MCs everywhere whilst smoking 25 joints per day I said to the Police Commissioner of Ulis "Give me my props or I'll carve a Nike tick into your forehead" Tainted like Cantat, slick like a flat screen A big heart, full of hatred, the high class
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