[Verse 1]
These ideas are nightmares to white parents

Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings
Like whatever they say has no bearing, it's so scary in a house that allows
no swearing

To see him walking around with his headphones blaring
Alone in his own zone, cold and he don't care
He's a problem child

And what bothers him all comes out, when he talks about
His $#&@in' dad walkin' out
Cause he just hates him so bad that he blocks him out

If he ever saw him again he'd probably knock him out
His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back
Talkin' black, brainwashed from rock and rap

He sags his pants, do-rags and a stocking cap
His step-father hit him, so he socked him back, and broke his nose
His house is a broken home, there's no control, he just let's his emotions

go...

[Hook]

Rappelle-toi on était jeune, on n'avait pas la haine, on n'avait pas de label
10 ans plus tard certains manquent à l'appel
Un peu plus tard j'aurai ma ville comme soutien

Soudain j'écrirai ça pour que tu saches d'où je viens, les Ulis
Pour que tu saches que toute ma life a un goût de flingue
Pour pas que t'oublies, après "Bergère" rajoute "jungle"


[Verse 2]
Entertainment is changin', intertwinin' with gangsta's

In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum
Holy or unholy, only have one homie
Only this gun, lonely cause don't anyone know me

Yet everybody just feels like they can relate, I guess words are a
motha$#&@a they can be great
Or they can degrade, or even worse they can teach hate

It's like these kids hang on every single statement we make
Like they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinum
Now how the $#&@ did this metamorphosis happen

From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'
To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' $$#
But then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you

Fans turn on you, attorneys all want a turn at you
To get they hands on every dime you have, they want you to lose your mind
every time you mad

So they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannon
Any dispute won't hesitate to produce handguns
That's why these prosecutors wanna convict me, strictly just to get me off

of these streets quickly
But all they kids be listenin' to me religiously, so i'm signin' cd's while
police fingerprint me

They're for the judge's daughter but his grudge is against me
If i'm such a $#&@in' menace, this %#@! doesn't make sense Pete
It's all political, if my music is literal, and i'm a criminal how the $#&@

can I raise a little girl
I couldn't, I wouldn't be fit to, you're full of %#@! too, Guerrera, that
was a fist that hit you...


[Hook]


[Verse 3]
They say music can alter moods and talk to you
Well can it load a gun up for you , and @@#! it too

Well if it can, then the next time you $$#ault a dude
Just tell the judge it was my fault and i'll get sued
See what these kids do is hear about us totin' pistols

And they want to get one cause they think the %#@!'s cool
Not knowin' we really just protectin' ourselves, we entertainers
Of course the %#@!'s affectin' our sales, you ignoramus

But music is reflection of self, we just explain it, and then we get our
checks in the mail
It's $#&@ed up ain't it

How we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any $#&@in'
thing that we wanted
That's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thing

Except for a dream, and a $#&@in' rap magazine
Who post pin-up pictures on their walls all day long
Idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through %#@! in their lives
Till they sit and they cry at night wishin' they'd die

Till they throw on a rap record and they sit, and they vibe
We're nothin' to you but we're the $#&@in' %#@! in they eyes
That's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and
hold it
Cause we consider these minutes golden

And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone
Just let our spirits live on, through our lyrics that you hear in our
songs and we can...

[Hook]

Rappelle-toi on était jeune, on n'avait pas la haine, on n'avait pas de label
10 ans plus tard certains manquent à l'appel
Un peu plus tard j'aurai ma ville comme soutien
Soudain j'écrirai ça pour que tu saches d'où je viens, les Ulis
Pour que tu saches que toute ma life a un goût de flingue

Pour pas que t'oublies, après "Bergère" rajoute "jungle"
Pour que tu saches à quel point tout ça me manque
Que tu comprennes mon histoire tout simplement