Текст песни и перевод на английский Salif - Killbill

Killbill

A lheure ou la cocaine a envahi le ghetto francais, ou chirac a fai son tem leuro a remplacé les franc, ou nimporete kel baltringue pe fer le fou deriere un myk me revoici vénere a max mon ingenieur deriere un mag! moi depui rechton un oeil dan loeil-ton pr des pochton on sentre-tue facon crev'ton les momes son kom le monde cruel et insencé les substance ke lon ven son kom moi el ont bien changé.la dogue a la couleur cred dla balistik sa sen la chnouf par ici, les clien trouv sa magnifik, une ruelle un te-trai sa fai BIM BIM la vengeance est cruelle froide kom cel de Killbill.sa pu la cabane dc sa pu la cavale ta vie nest kune pute dc tu la cravach on adopte une posture dracaille, ne coz plu d'travail, on postule rabat' mai en costume cravate!
Refrain2*: prolongation! wesh gro kes ki ya tu cherche les problm tu rpar avc des protéz cest pa un coup d'pression c une promesse vien dan mon stade avc des protege tibia! les killer street son pre a mettre des tenu de martien se fon peter pr des broutille des menu larcin té grillé on cé ktu tape un nouvel drogue nouvel police les condé son dvenu takin! c batar on des fazer 1000 la marocaine est sur i-tunes cé mon son ke les akers deal. un pe d'poppers et les troudbal se trouv large un coup d'potin et les poucav se soulage BAAaalance! mon son plai o ptite larziza et a leur jogging adadias a ceu ki on des lo-ki a bicrav a ceu ki sur un lowkick foute k.o ki reve de kartel mafieu kom louki luciano! ki roule en class C matricule W la B.A.C naten plu 6' du mat' pr t'levé! on refuz de crevé le ventre vide stu prie pa la smaine essai o moin l'midi le vendredi. refain

Killbill

At the time when cocaine invaded the French ghetto, or when Chirac made his term euro to replace the franc, or when any idiot can pretend to be crazy behind a mic, here I am, pissed off at max, my engineer behind a mag! Since Rechton, I've had an eye for detail for smack, for scratch we kill each other like crazy, kids are like the world cruel and senseless, the stuff that is sold is like me it has changed a lot. The dope in the color creed and ballistics smells like grass over here, customers find it beautiful, an alley a shoot-out makes BIM BIM revenge is cruel cold like Killbill. It stinks of hovel because it stinks of getaway, your life is only a whore because you whip it, we adopt a thug posture, don't talk about work anymore, we apply to attacks, but in a suit and tie!
Chorus2*: Extension! Hey honey, what's up, you're looking for problems, you answer with prosthetics, it's not a pressure cooker, it's a promise, come to my stadium with shin guards! The street killers are ready to wear Martian suits, they'll kill themselves for a trifle, petty larceny, you're toasted, we know you're taking a new drug, new police, the cops have become takin! They're bastards, we do 1000, the Moroccan is on i-tunes, it's my sound that the dealers deal. A little poppers and the whores find themselves wide, a blowjob and the vaginas relieve themselves BAAaalance! My sound appeals to little thieves and their tracksuits, to those who have lighters for sale, to those who kick out on a low kick, who dream of mafia cartels like Lucky Luciano! Who drive in a class C, license plate W, the B.A.C doesn't wait for 6am to pick you up! We refuse to starve, you don't pray during the week, at least try on Friday at noon. Chorus