J'te Parle (traduzione in Inglese)

traduzione in Inglese

I'm talking to you

Versioni: #1#2
What drives us is the fight we have to engage in
Easy to be a coward and give up
We ought to talk about it, to disturb them
All this need to change
We ought to talk about it, to disturb them
I have the bitter taste of defeat, damn, dry mouth, want to vomit
While replacing the venim, I'm becoming what I didn't want to be
I wanted to hit the breaks, I ended up in the bushes [roses]
The prettiest blossomed in crap, we did a lot of things
I'm the one who ends up withered, I knew I shouldn't have exposed myself
Go ahead, talk to me, I don't give a damn
All my ennemies wish I hang up the cleats [=threw in the towel] Dumb ass, I hang up your nose, you're giving me a headache
Life stinks, I'm not gonna frenchkiss it
Rap Gavroche's style, we're not here to sugarcoat it
In the protests, it's not slogans I need, it's grenades
Bastards, they need to be discourage, that's how you negociate
The bosses that are laying off, sequestrate them in the factories
Don't ask me to piss, I have THC in my urine
We endure, but we transcend, you have to underline adversity
We are blacklisted, and or names have been highlighted
We are being [???], they're trying to obliterate us
I just talked about my mom, about my mates (homies?), about my wannabe criminals
6 am, handcuffs, what the devil has in store for us
Open your eyes, take notes
You want to talk? Go ahead, talk, or shut up
I just talked about my mates who like to hang around late at night
Yep [soirée réné???]
Classico and everyone's caight loose, hand over your left hand to Néné
Yes, mosques sealed, a religion grilled
What is secularism when you have to hide to pray
And speak loud, I'm here to speak low
Son of cowards, calling me an imigrant, wants to belittle my race
Talks of a fucked-up time, a thriller of submissive people
Where the head of state takes the people for Katsumi
Talking to you about Mohamed Bouazizi, disapointed people
I'm taling about my home, a fallen dictator
Yes, as if we got what we deserved, history and journey but it's nothing
Kill them all - God will recognize His own
I'm talking to my own, handcuffed or free, sober or drunk
Armed with a diploma or a gun to feed the family
I'm talking about this sickening habit of running after money
Taking risks, getting the knife, even if it ends in jail
I'm talking about cases in the news, about school failures
About polar atmospheres that the brother from heatwave origins must live in
I'm taking about these mucus that I'm spitting on Hortefeux ou Guerlain
I'm talking about these wars, I'm talking about my Palestinian brothers
I'm talking about Africa, its colonies, its economy shortcomings
Compared to Roony or Romi
I'm talking about Marine as Bruel is talking about Dieudo,
I'm talking about my rhyme like Bob Marley talks about weed
Yes I'm talking about my city like Cabrel talks about the little Marie,
Like Jamel talks about White Barry, the friend
I'm talking about my delusions, my offences, my repentance
In short, I'm talking about our lives, and probably about yours too.
Postato da dreadymorticia Ven, 09/11/2012 - 09:13
Commenti dell’autore:

Une idée sur comment traduire "On se fait disquetter"?

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