Light, light, light, light, light, light, light, light, light Fill your magazine, detail your bubble, get rid of the bimmer We get out of the trial, we go back to the dock, don't worry, we'll do it again The judge wants your skin, a little like Pablo, come like in Targon, but what are you going to say? Tens of thousands insured, few to export, hidden in the back of each prostitute Drive by Antemac, tell me who I'm going to kill Che Gueye, I'm coming on the periphery, I bomb at 300, unpaid, 500 Hidden in the background, a desire to become a backer Like Tony Mussolin, too far from John Carvey I like to do fashion, but never locked up I like a lot from behind, so if it's on fire Ba Che Gueye, Ba Lingi, Ba Yiba, Ba Zali, Nansal, La Moune, Deleke, Ba Foto, Dame At each of my showcases, always in Fouaille A groupie on the screen, I fuck her like Fouaille Don't worry baby, you're going to end up in tears I made Quavo smoke, Amsterdam's rap Microtest 1, 2, 1, 2, make the 22 smoke, I'm all up I'm floating in the shit, the lack of air in the grass The love of Rizmami, Dembata, of course I make it in the cell, AK Alpha double, Lipman, Black Pavia, it's the shit of 5, 9 or 9, 3 What are the dealers, what are the jays? Double black, we confirm that we fuck them I've never fucked my friend, except for the metal, again The industry trembles, we've never seen you, you don't talk, you don't flame Come test my bank At least it's going to be bustos in the legs The squad is going, they don't have balls Negro, you're not in my category Head burned since the ecography I'm at the top of your hierarchy The squad is going, they don't have balls I want to kiss like the Qataris For the family, I go in a zombie I come out galved like Bolivar It's the return of the clique At 21, I eat cold Take out the automatics They're dead, they're dead They're dead, they're dead They're dead, they're dead They're dead, they're dead They're dead Speed, it's the return of the double black You thought we were dead Bastard, I fuck you without stress, who's going to test, bro? We come to plant our decor, we pack up decor Break doors, the brother of the fat one has broken records The squad is in gold, the power of the north Your faggots only think of us, it's SEGA From the BR and BR, we kill The guys are looking for us to clear, we fill Too angry, we lose, we build I have squads in the game to fuck them up All we do is shoot, we make the bitches wet Burn the bitches to get the bow of the scoop The faggot under the hood, who's going to test the team Yellow beer in the mouth, I make your clique dance And you click and you click on our sound, yeah you like Only mbatha in the biff Don't think we're all pissed The Balgars paid for the biff You're tired and I don't even calculate your scales The particle to make salt in my jets N, Y, D, A, B, A, G, R, A, D, U, R, K, X Tell me who's going to fuck us We're coming in this game, we're killing it N, B, B, B, take all my chips I'm in this game, all these faggots at night V from the S6 in the pocket V8 Negro, big stack of bills I prayed, I said light, I was fired Dumbass, take off your vest Crying pigs, fuck the termite My friend, you have to fuck, you have to feed the mine It's the army, it's you, you understood You took everything, you said everything, but my only opinion Don't push, let us do bitch Deposé en masse, quelques grammes dans la massa Aller retour de Paris, go à Plaza J'ai l'fusil AK bloqué sous l'île de la Casa Casa, fils de pute à le brassage J'ai l'bazar en masse, si j'te fume, j'recupère comme les raps Tu veux pas qu'on avance, si tu veux qu'on s'arrange Pas nous cacher nos rats de salle J'ai fait faire la calandre des Allemands J'suis près d'la burette à Louboutin Elles se calment, elles se calment, elles se calment Le bolide est taté, il est negro et chelou C'est le retour de la clique La vengeance se mange Sortez les automatiques Ils sont morts, ils ont l'mort Ils sont morts, ils ont l'mort Ils sont morts, ils ont l'mort Ils sont morts, ils ont l'mort