J'te Parle [English translation]

(chorus)

What drives us is the fight we have to engage in

Easy to be a coward and give up

We ought to talk about it, to disturb them

All this need to change

We ought to talk about it, to disturb them

[Aketo]

I have the bitter taste of defeat, damn, dry mouth, want to vomit

While replacing the venim, I'm becoming what I didn't want to be

I wanted to hit the breaks, I ended up in the bushes [roses]

The prettiest blossomed in crap, we did a lot of things

I'm the one who ends up withered, I knew I shouldn't have exposed myself

Go ahead, talk to me, I don't give a damn

All my ennemies wish I hang up the cleats [=threw in the towel] Dumb ass, I hang up your nose, you're giving me a headache

Life stinks, I'm not gonna frenchkiss it

Rap Gavroche's style, we're not here to sugarcoat it

In the protests, it's not slogans I need, it's grenades

Bastards, they need to be discourage, that's how you negociate

The bosses that are laying off, sequestrate them in the factories

Don't ask me to piss, I have THC in my urine

We endure, but we transcend, you have to underline adversity

We are blacklisted, and or names have been highlighted

We are being [???], they're trying to obliterate us

(chorus)

[Tunisiano]

I just talked about my mom, about my mates (homies?), about my wannabe criminals

6 am, handcuffs, what the devil has in store for us

Open your eyes, take notes

You want to talk? Go ahead, talk, or shut up

I just talked about my mates who like to hang around late at night

Yep [soirée réné???]

Classico and everyone's caight loose, hand over your left hand to Néné

Yes, mosques sealed, a religion grilled

What is secularism when you have to hide to pray

And speak loud, I'm here to speak low

Son of cowards, calling me an imigrant, wants to belittle my race

Talks of a fucked-up time, a thriller of submissive people

Where the head of state takes the people for Katsumi

Talking to you about Mohamed Bouazizi, disapointed people

I'm taling about my home, a fallen dictator

Yes, as if we got what we deserved, history and journey but it's nothing

Kill them all - God will recognize His own

(chorus)

[Soprano]

I'm talking to my own, handcuffed or free, sober or drunk

Armed with a diploma or a gun to feed the family

I'm talking about this sickening habit of running after money

Taking risks, getting the knife, even if it ends in jail

I'm talking about cases in the news, about school failures

About polar atmospheres that the brother from heatwave origins must live in

I'm taking about these mucus that I'm spitting on Hortefeux ou Guerlain

I'm talking about these wars, I'm talking about my Palestinian brothers

I'm talking about Africa, its colonies, its economy shortcomings

Compared to Roony or Romi

I'm talking about Marine as Bruel is talking about Dieudo,

I'm talking about my rhyme like Bob Marley talks about weed

Yes I'm talking about my city like Cabrel talks about the little Marie,

Like Jamel talks about White Barry, the friend

I'm talking about my delusions, my offences, my repentance

In short, I'm talking about our lives, and probably about yours too.

(chorus)

• Artist:Sniper