Текст и перевод песни Seth Gueko - Destins croisés

Destins croisés

Pour commencer j′suis ne la peau violasser
Au meme moment un xe-to ce fait un fix
Avec une seringue et un vieux lacets
Mais soyant sur de rien crois tu qu'enfant

Il souhaitais s′injecter du sucre brin
Mais c'est les annees 80 paris est sous heroines
La stup maquillera sa mort par une chute de train
Le coeur de sa mere est en ruines

Ainsi que celui de sa pute de tchoin
J'dis pute car on va la croiser 10 ans plus tard
Plus de chico, plus de regard
Une degaine de cigare au bras d′un mac bulgare

Pret a t′offrir une nuit d'amour dans ton plumard par son brown sugar
J′ai 10 piges chodard j'suis passionner de jeux gore
Mais en faite fasciner par le mac
Et sa montre CHOPARD sa grosse che-por

Mais ce soir la il roulera comme un chauffard
Handicapera a jamais le petit djaffar
Voila comment le prince des mafieux
Deviendra le roi des clochard

Mais mieux vaut etre un clochard qu′un coffa
J'decouvre dieux a 16 ans il est jamais trot tard
J′arpente les trottoirs silencieux
Avec des futurs braqueurs d'etablissement financier

Echappe de peu au penitencier
Laisse 5 ans de mon dos a un patron
Qui finira pas me liciencier
Qui s'abreuve de zubrowka

Qui rentre chez lui
Tape son fils comme un judoka
Dans sa tete ya plus que le quotat
Sa fait deja 5 noel qu′il lui fait plus de deau-ca

Quelle fils de chienne
Connaissais meme pas mon nom, mon prenom
Pour lui j′etait qu'une fiche de paie
A leur tables ya que deux couverts

La mere a remedier a son cancer des ovaires avec un revolver
C′est son fils qui la decouvert qu'a fai le tri
Entre le degueulit les bouts de cervelles et les bouts de verres
Le comble pour une estheticienne

Adique du superficielle
Elle qu′ampester l'hygiene
Pieces a conviction mon cul oui le 6 coups
Finira sur le bureau degueulasse d′un flic ripoux

Le lieutenant jean louis clin alias gilou
Pour te le decrire il a le physique de guirou
Il a pas de familles a part son poster de zizou
Son gyro, sa plaque, son zippo, son sandwich au chorizo

C't'ordure maquille tout ses crimes mais il est torturer
Par le fantome de malik ouussekine
Il decale eperdument sa spychotherapie
Mais la prochaine fois c′est dans ton crane

Qui tirent au penalty
La prochaine fois c′est ton crane
Qu ai reduit en charpi
Ces dans ta tete qui fera le remake de 13 tzemati

C'est tous le contraire de sa fille
A cette instant meme elle rigole
Des injures et des microbes que poustillone un ivrogne
Machonne un chewing gum, lit la presse people
Qui aurai qu′il y avait patate de forain dans son ipod

Seth Gueko, dan de pues

Crossed Destinies

To begin, I was born with violated skin,
At the same moment, a junkie was getting his fix,
With a syringe and an old shoelace.
But being unsure of anything, do you think as a child,

He wanted to inject brown sugar?
But it's the 80s, Paris is under heroin's spell.
The dope will disguise his death as a train fall.
His mother's heart is in ruins,

As well as that of his bitch of a girlfriend.
I say bitch because we'll meet her 10 years later,
No more boyfriend, no more gaze,
A cigar-smoking look on the arm of a Bulgarian pimp,

Ready to offer you a night of love in your bed with her brown sugar.
I'm 10 years old, a street kid, passionate about gore games,
But actually fascinated by the pimp,
And his CHOPARD watch, his big whore.

But that night he'll drive like a maniac,
Permanently disabling little Djaffar.
This is how the prince of the mafia,
Will become the king of the homeless.

But it's better to be a homeless man than a snitch.
I discover God at 16, it's never too late.
I walk the silent sidewalks,
With future robbers of financial institutions.

Narrowly escaping the penitentiary,
Leaving 5 years of my back to a boss,
Who will end up firing me,
Who drinks Zubrowka,

Who goes home,
Beats his son like a judoka.
In his head, there's nothing but the quota,
It's been 5 Christmases since he last gave him a gift.

What a son of a bitch,
Didn't even know my name, my first name.
To him, I was just a paycheck,
At their table, there are only two place settings.

The mother remedied her ovarian cancer with a revolver.
It was her son who discovered her, who did the sorting,
Between the vomit, the bits of brain, and the shards of glass.
The height of irony for a beautician,

Goodbye to the superficial,
She who reeked of hygiene.
Evidence my ass, yes the 6 shots,
Will end up on the disgusting desk of a dirty cop.

Lieutenant Jean-Louis Clin, alias Gilou,
To describe him, he has the physique of a clown.
He has no family except his poster of Zizou,
His gyro, his badge, his Zippo, his chorizo sandwich.

This bastard covers up all his crimes, but he is tortured,
By the ghost of Malik Oussekine.
He desperately postpones his psychotherapy,
But next time, it's in your skull,

That they'll shoot the penalty.
Next time, it's your skull,
That's reduced to pulp.
It's in your head that the remake of 13 Tzameti will take place.

She's the complete opposite of her daughter.
At this very moment, she's laughing,
At the insults and germs that a drunkard is sputtering,
Chewing gum, reading celebrity magazines,
Who would have thought there were carnival potatoes in her iPod?

Seth Gueko, dance of the fleas.