Pour Ceux [English translation]
Pour Ceux [English translation]
Rohff:
For those who move,
Not for those who shit on them,
Who hit them,
Even when the biggest walk over it,
For our sisters who will be tomorrow's mothers,
Wesh Wesh cousine, mafia K1 K1
For Kahlouch, Arbouch,
The Sinti who have a shady look,
Harcore even when in clogs,
Pour the social occasions where you need good grammar,
Who have gaps,
For the Tuaregs, the pirates of bitumen,
Who have more tree-stumps on the cost,
Who are shaky, scarred,
With an eye which is going to shit,
Always infront when there are shady goings-on there
Karlito:
Two envelopes in the urn, in one a "big-up" for the village,
In the other, a "big-up" for the council-house kids
It's for the guys with or without permission,
The smack in the box, the weed in the chest,
And 20 grammes of poppers,
Of carbon like a young Fresh for arrows,
200% addicts, too needy, clever and crafty,
Raise your middle finger good and high if you can smell me coming,
Samir and the dry and there the risky blow of leaving,
It's for the accompanying chicks,
Their "charming destinations" shaved,
Who glance towards us,
I show, the one-parent family
For the guys in my road who'd kill for a job
Rim'K:
It's for the Jean Valjean's, the crazies, the rich,
Who roll up in their BMW's with their orange hookers,
Who prowl, who cram their fag buts in the ashtray,
Whi have a gun which can make your skin waltz
To those who you like or those who knife you, who make you laugh or quake,
Those who make you laugh just so they can strangle you,
The fat fess, those who want Ken,
Or who fuck there in the middle of the week,
Wank to hardcore cartoons like Ken,
To the survivors of hard labour,
Who scan their towns, like guerillas,
To the dealers of weed and blow,
To those who will always be there for their families,
To those who love the real party, I won't speak to you of those who are M.I.A.
OGB:
Without weapons, holding back my tears like Kelly Joyce,
That which doesn't concern you then there immediately shuts down your poste,
Those who will have understood what life is when they die,
Life isn't a film where your area is the backdrop,
For those who know this and accept the unforgettable,
That lets our past go, these indelible things,
Those who are very early, accused the guys aside from on the bitumen,
Because of their attitude, it's because of the OGBitumen,
For those who pay their rent but back home see themselves as the propriataires,
I not going to spend my life playing with sparring partners
It's for them, but also for those who are annoyed by SSL
For those who want to do things banned by SACEM
Rohff:
For the social events which scare you, which make money
Always at the exact time in the transaction
Finalised on a transaction
Fat Pattaya supposedly who always has the bar
Who spends at the bar who rolls english
Tay for only a part
For the believers, the brave,
Who have a little culture, imatures
Raised on rice, on couscous, on hits with the belt
In the open class
The cleaner fathers
Fathers who work in cleaning jobs
In pain
For their children
Those whose pussies nor armpits smell
Who take care of them
Do the cooking and the washing up
Who are in a halal marriage
Hey, yo for the drivers of public transport, red
The stakes which roll on rolling chairs
Dry
C'est pour les mecs qui sortent le CBR quand il fait chaud
It's for the guys who leave the CBR when it's warm
Who squat in the bars, the balls of the estates
I rap for the undertakers
Those who are word their box or their coffin with a 12 coffin
For those who go out with the fit chicks, sticks in the summer sunshine
Chick in hand in the ghetto, winter and summer
Then the next, guys running
Following, running crimes even without drink
For those who for get high doing lines
And play on their PS2's all night to make themselves sleep
For those who screw the KO's in a pro way
It's the tarot cards all predicting the worst
AP
I rap for those who have thier bags ready to leave
Be it to embark or to go onto the streets with their piggybank
Those who do everything to not go hiking, the crazies
Those who accellerate, those addicted to weapons, who polish their guns
Or those who like to organise their meetings in the night
When you cross us stealing, you there
Bombard, it's Michael Night
Those who don't have the Internet
Watch all the goings on out their windo
The guys who aren't too clean
To those who wear ID bracelets
Who kiss their patrons
24/7 the state is indebted to us
To all those who sing our hymnes
You have a free hand
And all those who have pseudonymes
And who feel free
Manu Key
Let my dream team pass
We'll find the mic again
They're perhaps the most intimate moments
Finishing the "routine"
Fed up of being the victime
Because death has already mocked us
Like the jersey of Argentina
My rap is the captain
It's he who wears the armband
We're there to make the ghettos vibrate like Boissa did
We're harder for the most tender
For those who like gang-bangs
And those who like to gather en mass like in Thailand
If you've got a good idea, then go on, mate
For those who've never let go of the break or the Greek
Apart from that what did you want to say?
It's for the best and for the worst
For those who have the cainfri logo embroidered on their leather
Demon One
For the Kainfris
All those who bought Les Points Sur Les I
For those who've left
It's for my mate, L.A.S.
It's for those who vote,
Those who fight for their friends
Those who search for the jackpot
Those who've lost their friends on the street
Those, for those who suffer for the ghetto
For the hardcore guys
For all those who don't eat pork
For all those who sleep rough
Yeah, it's for the guys who fuck the system
You don't need to laugh with me
Rohff
For those who move,
Not for those who shit on them,
Who hit them,
Even when the biggest walk over it,
For our sisters who will be tomorrow's mothers,
Wesh Wesh cousine, mafia K1 K1
For Kahlouch, Arbouch,
The Sinti who have a shady look,
Harcore even when in clogs,
Pour the social occasions where you need good grammar,
Who have gaps,
For the Tuaregs, the pirates of bitumen,
Who have more tree-stumps on the cost,
Who are shaky, scarred,
With an eye which is going to shit,
Always infront when there are shady goings-on there
- Artist:Mafia K’1 Fry
- Album:La Cerise sur le Ghetto