Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
This is the Molotov cocktail
This is noble art
What I say bleeds, it's a storm, this is a sound to compete
For this occasion, we bring back on the time bomb the match
The one regenerating the base and the crimes we could commit
On disc, for your trouble, take 5 comets
From the very start the team is in the ring like Ali
That already fades feeling the nearby peril the khaki court
The nib like a stroke of a pick, phalanx active
Put the right from the rotary press, feel the bright force
The energy of this sound where we crack down for life
It's the song that our guts sing like an electric shock
Each sentence touch ego-trip or metaphoric
Blast the blasés on active strong submersible
Target the proud irascible spirit, hardliner IAM
From the start, you must understand
This team shakes the heads, there is the fire in the show
Feel the atmosphere, the high sphere; the dirty rhyme, pal
I dryly turn up like Starsky
It's massive war, you know it starts
Panther spirit sit in my artistic texts, without comedy or bad-mouth
I know this pressed biz, meditating experienced guy
You reconize the sound, you want your slice, don't try
We dryly turn out until the high-powered blood
You must feel the fluency, rhymes and assonance
Make the effort, catch the sense of the texts with essence
The crew deeply hit from his birth
Put your mittens, your myths like
When you don't imitate, don't limit, man
Each to his fight, here the beat lead
So, we bring us et and the cousins cry "Amen"
Go ring the bell to serve the dixies
This is noble art, our bars, our parts, blarney breaker
On a fixed soil and away from the Gotha
On a sound rerded by Père Labat, created to slaughter
Every presenting measure, even if I must be shoot down
From the start, you must understand
This team shakes the heads, there is the fire in the show
Feel the atmosphere, the high sphere; the dirty rhyme, pal
Rather warrior like Holly Fields
My prolific poetry base my origins au rap who horrifies
The mass who spit out the orifices
The hate of the habit like we hate the uniform
Not the man and the form of our rhymes exasperates
The weight of wrong breaks the collarbones, and the choices that the State carries
Let to the regime, it's the rage and the foam
The marks of the life are the marks that inflict to the riddim
Terrify like the Psy4 with auditory crimes
From the start, you must understand
Feel the atmosphere, the high sphere, the dirty rhyme, pal