2019.04.04.
Growing Old
Now that we don’t see each other
It’s no more like back then
Business or rap but I believed we were buddies
I’m not really the same
I have to teleport myself
Time opens windows but closes certain doors
Too bad for the resentments
Time passes with one’s codes
Fewer friends at heart more dollars in the safe
Race against time or drown alcohol
Finish at the end of the world or finish at the end of the rope
We grow up in the pictures we are no longer fashionable
I left a few photos of when I was young at the morgue
We used to go play furious four on mopeds
But we made fun of anyone who talked about getting serious in the future
And I wonder
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us never want to grow up
How many of us still chase after street cred
My ego is wounded
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us never want to grow up
How many of us still run after street cred
My ego is wounded
We’ll give account in the end
Ego
We’ll give account in the end
My heart girded with dynamite time imposes its tyranny
Keep your eyes wide open we won’t be here for long like the pyramids
Petrol jerry can
my existence is broken by time
And my teenage years in a wu tang killabeez environment
Whoever you believe
Whatever you believe
From the beginning parents have guided
And you can no longer really rap for kids when you’re forty
Kapish
It’s not a man living but it’s his childhood dreams dying
Me, I’m too old to shoot clips in a foyer
I’m not in the mood, I break down in less than an hour
I don’t give ear either to cool trends or to rumors
I’m dying time catapults me
I feel like I’m getting old, without having been an adult
Yet
There’s a lot on my mind even though you see me fool about
Me, I love to learn but I hate to be lectured
Avoid the annoying topics and subjects
Damn, I’m so old-fashioned, I use PES controls even for FIFA
Tell my brother that I’d like to hit the nail on the head
And that he didn’t screw up my life, no, no he surely saved me
Now that you’re far from your cell, from a questionable life
Know that you’ve always been far from the best of the two of us
Frangin
Within the groans and the shouts
Within the fears and the noise
Hein! All that is affected and destroyed
Fuck
Achieving your dreams can do some damage
I’m like all men, I no longer desire what I already have
And already, I have a few classics
But
It’s becoming a dangerous mission *
Man
I’m a fussy painting** about to become a has been
Me
Time has caught up with me and I’m already old-fashioned
And I can’t rap like Niska or dress like S Pri Noir
Man
There’s only music in life my nigga
S-pi
In spite of your distance you’ll still be my brother
Too bad
Things are going too fast because this life is just a training
Too Zairese I’ll be late for my burial
Before, I used to hide my worries from my parents
And now nothing has changed I hide my worries from my kids
Your following no longer reminds you that
All the fault we can find with our childhood friends is that they’re the same age as us
And for the eternal youths that have become souls in sorrow
And for all the teenagers getting close to their forties
The passing time has made us unequal like many of my niggas
My ego is wounded
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us don’t want to grow up
How many of us still chase after street cred
My ego is wounded
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us don’t want to grow up
How many of us still chase after street cred
My ego is wounded
We’ll give account in the end
My ego is wounded
We’ll give account in the end
My ego is wounded
We’ll give account in the end
Ego
We’ll give account in the end
My ego is wounded
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us don’t want to grow up
How many of us still chase after street cred
My ego is wounded
How many of us don’t have limits
And how many of us don’t want to grow up
How many of us still chase after street cred
My ego is wounded
LoupSolo
2018.05.27.
The Butterfly Effect
[Couplet 1 : Youssoupha]
Prim’s Parolier
Rhymes as explosive as nitro so that the competition on the mic can't deny it.
If it gets to insults leave out the mothers.
If in my lines you miss the end go ahead, rewind.
It's freestyle but
I don't talk about weed and sky [whisky] but about the street and its rifraff themselves.
My rap's always fresh, it's like I'm brand new
Your rap's all the same, it's like a choreographed Kuduro
I do all the work, my heart in the winter season
My brother, struggling to keep his head above water, is waiting to be discharged.
In fact a convict who escapes
Is as rare as Jean-Pierre Pernaut speaking to Kemi Seba
Our enemies separate us, war based on low blows
Who talks about 'rap game'? I haven't been playing for a long time.
I have no more time for negotiations
Our lives are so short that if they made them into films they'd call it a festival.
Courage is the thing to do. One lone visionary
I come from the slums of Kinshasa, call me Slumdog Millionare.
Like all those from Africa who come to have a set of wheels
Who grow up on a scorched earth but not Roland-Garros
I'm watering the bad luck that escorts me, how do I launch myself?
Happiness is at my door but I need to cross the threshold of poverty.
I think of my undocumented uncles, it's dramatic
But for some papers they could claim to be the father of Rachida Dati's kid.
They give us the smooth talk despite the effort
Didn't wait for the 'crisis' to see that poverty has taken hold.
Guadeloupe is revolting, France is in excitement,
You thought you'd see La Compagnie Créole you got the LKP
A survivor, thanks to success I'm not a delinquent,
But I take the Metro again to get back the inspiration I had 5 years ago.
Yeah, I've changed and I show it
From now on I write my conscious lyrics in the paper Le Monde
Remember my illiterate name, you want me to weaken
If I've called you a fool, consider it a euphemism.
Too many enemies in the plot without warning
Notice that when people talk behind my back only my ass is looking at them.
I'm on the sidelines but in the machine I'm the gravel
To hold up Paris with my rhymes and the butterfly effect.
[Transition : Youssoupha]
Ok, yeah, I told you you'd never heard French rap.
[Chorus: Youssoupha & Maitre Gims]
I move forward eyes closed, fists clenched, stomach in knots
I have all my limbs for the moment, praise be to God.
I've taken hits and I have to admit
But praise be to God, praise be to God
I move forward eyes closed, fists clenched, stomach in knots
I have all my limbs for the moment, praise be to God.
I've taken hits and I have to admit
But praise be to God, praise be to God
[Verse 2: Youssoupha]
Since I started to excel in music certain friends have become adversaries,
It's ironic, like dying the day of your birthday.
Find your own way brother, don't touch my wheel
I'm a Black Panther like Tupac Amaru's mother.
I'm seeing red in this French rap and its situation
I refuse to share its doubts and carry its complexes.
You rap but you “f*** the States”, pathetic.
Where have you seen a reggae man from here who says “f*** Jamaica”?
Don't be naive. I want to heal my life
By fighting tooth and nail even a long way from my shore.
Yes Africa's far, I'm condemned without playing the star
But if I fall put me in the same cell as Joey Starr
That will allow me to not cut myself off from hip-hop
Between Snoop and Lollipop, I have my verses on my iPod
My friend, rappers are pale copies
To get my music out of the crisis I need inspiration more than HADOPI
Adopted son of Marianne the harpy
Become my wicked stepmother, adverse to my genes
And I like when on the net you open your mouth but careful:
Your Facebook wall will be your Wailing Wall
Bambaataa's tempation is finished
I have the feeling of a rap where even speech isn't understood
Where MCs start a 'clash' to cheer themselves up
But in the Hostile 2006 freestyle Medine wasn't the one stuttering.
Scared by the death in my letters
Because in the end life is just a sexually transmitted disease.
I stay invisible but in the machine I'm the gravel
To hold up Paris with my rhymes and the butterfly effect.
[Chorus x2]
[Outro : Youssoupha]
Praise be to God, brother
Thank you for the talent that he grants us to practice this art that is rap
Black music and the butterfly effect
The butterfly effect is when
I lay down a rap kilometers away from you
We don't even know each other
And you're sitting at home with your MP3
And look how you move your head
That's the butterfly effect
A hip-hop where the message of one can make us move in our millions