Lyrics and translation Akhenaton - Bad Boys de Marseille (Version Sauvage)

Bad Boys de Marseille (Version Sauvage)

SAT
Hold-up pour l'audience
FF IAM niquent la musique de France
Des fois je suis... comme un figureless Chill
Comme Nicky Lauda j'ai pas de face
Et prend le mic pour la pagaille, braille dans un autre style
AKH que dalle, tous mes potes m'appellent Chill
Chill qui veut challenger les bad boys
Après deux phrases, il y a plus personne
Des absents, que des putains de fantomas du rap
Première étape qui flotte dans mes synapses
L'équipe se les fourvoie au soleil
Pendant un bon laps de temps, je collapse
J'invente trop de phrases mais sur Mars, on fracasse
On tacle à la gorge du petit Robert, c'est grave
L'architecte alphabétique, le sniper au mic d'argent
Agent planqué comme un FBI et cisaille des mc
Entaille avec la FF, French Connection Bad Boys Origine Marseille
It's the crew you doubtly iness Marseille best
Hey cowboy you want to test we gonna bring it to your chest
Hold the iron sitting on aluminium alloy
Yo ah bad, I'm a bad boy
It's the crew you doubtly iness Marseille best
Hey cowboy you want to test we gonna bring it to your chest
Hold the iron sitting on aluminium alloy
Yo ah bad, I'm a bad boy
Nique la musique de France
J'arrive pour foutre mon bordel dans la discothèque
Mec, secoue ton squelette
Teste le rap de la FF, c'est comme la roulette russe
Choa, Bruce Willis du Hip Hop, donne la syphilis aux salopes
Ces mecs qui se la pètent tempérament starlette comme scarlet
Pas de comédie, travaille ta condition
Ce sont des Mc's que je vise comme à la tradition
Des DRS, l'arène c'est le son
Sur le sol, fiston, je jette toutes mes doses
Goûte ça, bébé, pose ta mise, avance ton pion
Né dans le biz, dans un monde où les vieux se font la bise
J'ai grandit, appris à faire le bien dans cette vie de galérien
Où les jeunes n'ont rien, formation bad boy pour avoir la caille demain
Le mic à la main, niquer le gratin
Est-ce une hallucination, une démonstration
D'une nouvelle génération comorienne, rongée par la haine
Mais pas la peine de vous rappeler dans ma façon de faire
Je représente Mars dans tout l'univers
Le bad boy croise les rimes comme le fer
S'accroche dur à son job parce que le paradis sur terre
Pour lui, c'est l'enfer cher le prix à payer pour un moment de distraction
La sentence tombe et une chute sans fin dans un puit sans fond
Loin de tout ça, il avance sur son fil, sûr de son but
La mine vive dans chaque phrase il représente sa ville
Dos aux réverbères, un oeil ouvert la sentinelle veille
Tu reconnais bien là le style des bad boys de Marseille
Fake Niggas catch fogs when they facing the temp faces
When my supreme niggas cream team hold it together like braces
I rip flows for foes, rhymes for jewels and clothes
Leave your whole hole stink you're a bag of assholes
It's Bruizza, Land Cruiser soke you with the uzi
Take you back to '88, now you funky manoeuver
You get caught up in the mix of things, flashing diamonds rings
If you had it when niggas said it depending on swings
Livin life by the rules, no games, no plus leather things
Ride on wild horses, pussy niggas on Range
Of pot and when the dogs neutralize the niggas
Trust the fonky families hold it down like a moose around your neck
Told you to keep your foot off the ground
Folks who tried to pull the teks their body never found
It's the crew you know without doubt that Marseille's the best
Hey cowboy you want to test we going to bring it to your chest
Marseille et sa production signore
N'essaie pas d'ignorer, le son est signé FF
Une musique pas faite pour 100 personnes mais pour des millions
C'est ça, pour des millions
Arrive un peu comme une rébellion dans le milieu
Les jeunes délinquants s'éclatent un max au micro
C'est mieux que de fourguer du plâtre aux accros
Savoir que des frères partent pour toujours, ça fait un choc
Mon rap devient le film du soir, influence Hitchcock
Ouais, j'ai vingt ans d'existence et toujours rien à mon actif
Niveau d'être, déception, y'a des sacrés wagons
Situés dans un contexte des plus incertains
Le bad boy s'éloigne de l'aimant, plus il y revient forcément
Normal, la tentation est si forte ici-bas
Les coups bas tendent à devenir la meilleure arme de combat
Je livre le mien dans le Hip Hop, S-A-T
FF de Mars ne cesse pas de représenter
Sombre attitude, latitude érudit, je viens d'une autre latitude
La bombe mystique, cent mégatonnes de sale magnitude
Amplitude de quelques décibels amplifiées, kilowatt, AKH
Inscris les plus bat sur ton phonographe
Mon clan, le mic
La fable tient le mic tel un sabre
Le quartier délabré qui kidnappe les glabres comme en Calabre
Le bad boy latino gominé plein de pinto
Passe le micro à l'un de mes potos, ciao à bientôt
Fake Niggas catch fogs when they facing the temp faces
When my supreme niggas cream team hold it together like braces
I rip flows for foes, rhymes for jewels and clothes
Leave your whole hole stink you're a bag of assholes
It's Bruizza, Land Cruiser soke you with the uzi
Take you back to '88, now you funky manoeuver
You get caught up in the mix of things, flashing diamonds rings
If you had it when niggas said it depending on swings
Livin life by the rules, no games, no plus leather things
Ride on wild horses, pussy niggas on Range
Of pot and when the dogs neutralize the niggas
Trust the fonky families hold it down like a moose around your neck
Told you to keep your foot off the ground
Folks who tried to pull the teks their body never found
It's the crew you know without doubt that Marseille's the best
Hey cowboy you want to test we going to bring it to your chest
La fierté, la fierté...

Bad Boys de Marseille (Version Sauvage)

SAT
Hold-up for the hearing
FF IAM fuck the music of France
Sometimes I am... like a figureless Chill
Like Nicky Lauda I have no face
And takes the mic for a mess, braille in another style
AKH fuck off, all my friends call me Chill
Chill who wants to challenge the bad boys
After two sentences, there is no one left
Absentees, that fucking ghosts of rap
First step that floats in my synapses
The team is fooling around in the sun
For a good amount of time, I collapse
I make up too many sentences but on Mars, we smash
We tackle little Robert's throat, it's serious
L'architecte alphabétique, le sniper au mic d'argent
Agent planqué comme un FBI et cisaille des mc
Entaille avec la FF, French Connection Bad Boys Origine Marseille
It's the crew you doubtly iness Marseille best
Hey cowboy you want to test we gonna bring it to your chest
Hold the iron sitting on aluminium alloy
Yo ah bad, I'm a bad boy
It's the crew you doubtly iness Marseille best
Hey cowboy you want to test we gonna bring it to your chest
Hold the iron sitting on aluminium alloy
Yo ah bad, I'm a bad boy
Nique la musique de France
J'arrive pour foutre mon bordel dans la discothèque
Mec, secoue ton squelette
Test the FF rap, it's like Russian roulette
Choa, Hip Hop's Bruce Willis, gives sluts syphilis
These guys who fuck each other starlet temperament like scarlet
No comedy, work on your condition
These are Mc's that I aim for as per tradition
DRS, the arena is the sound
On the floor, son, I'm throwing all my doses
Taste it, baby, put your bet down, advance your pawn
Born in the biz, in a world where old people kiss
I grew up, learned to do good in this galley life
Where young people have nothing, bad boy training to get the quail tomorrow
Mic in hand, fucking the gratin
Is this a hallucination, a demonstration
Of a new Comorian generation, consumed by hatred
But no need to remind you in my way of doing
I represent Mars in the whole universe
The bad boy crosses the rhymes like iron
Clings hard to his job because heaven on earth
For him, it's hell expensive the price to pay for a moment of distraction
The sentence falls and an endless fall into a bottomless pit
Far from all this, he advances on his thread, sure of his goal
The lively mine in every sentence he represents his city
Dos aux réverbères, un oeil ouvert la sentinelle veille
Tu reconnais bien là le style des bad boys de Marseille
Fake Niggas catch fogs when they facing the temp faces
When my supreme niggas cream team hold it together like braces
I rip flows for foes, rhymes for jewels and clothes
Leave your whole hole stink you're a bag of assholes
It's Bruizza, Land Cruiser soke you with the uzi
Take you back to '88, now you funky manoeuver
You get caught up in the mix of things, flashing diamonds rings
If you had it when niggas said it depending on swings
Livin life by the rules, no games, no plus leather things
Ride on wild horses, pussy niggas on Range
Of pot and when the dogs neutralize the niggas
Trust the fonky families hold it down like a moose around your neck
Told you to keep your foot off the ground
Folks who tried to pull the teks their body never found
It's the crew you know without doubt that Marseille's the best
Hey cowboy you want to test we going to bring it to your chest
Marseille and its signore production
Don't try to ignore, the sound is signed FF
Music not made for 100 people but for millions
That's it, for millions
Happens a bit like a rebellion in the middle
Young offenders have a lot of fun on the microphone
It's better than giving junkies plaster
To know that brothers are leaving forever, it's a shock
My rap becomes the movie of the evening, Hitchcock influence
Yeah, I've been around for twenty years and still have nothing under my belt
Level of being, disappointment, there are sacred wagons
Located in a most uncertain context
The bad boy moves away from the magnet, the more he necessarily comes back to it
Normal, the temptation is so strong down here
Low blows tend to become the best combat weapon
I'm delivering mine in Hip Hop, S-A-T
FF of March does not cease to represent
Gloomy attitude, erudite latitude, I come from another latitude
The mystical bomb, a hundred megatons of dirty magnitude
Amplitude of a few amplified decibels, kilowatt, AKH
Write the most beats on your phonograph
My clan, the mic
The fable holds the mic like a sword
The run-down neighborhood that kidnaps the hairless as in Calabria
The latino bad boy gummed full of pinto
Passe le micro à l'un de mes potos, ciao à bientôt
Fake Niggas catch fogs when they facing the temp faces
When my supreme niggas cream team hold it together like braces
I rip flows for foes, rhymes for jewels and clothes
Leave your whole hole stink you're a bag of assholes
It's Bruizza, Land Cruiser soke you with the uzi
Take you back to '88, now you funky manoeuver
You get caught up in the mix of things, flashing diamonds rings
If you had it when niggas said it depending on swings
Livin life by the rules, no games, no plus leather things
Ride on wild horses, pussy niggas on Range
Of pot and when the dogs neutralize the niggas
Trust the fonky families hold it down like a moose around your neck
Told you to keep your foot off the ground
Folks who tried to pull the teks their body never found
It's the crew you know without doubt that Marseille's the best
Hey cowboy you want to test we going to bring it to your chest
La fierté, la fierté...