Hamza B.
Pro
I stumbled upon this and was blown away. 9 minutes of realness. Don't know shyt about French Hip Hop, but this had me
No hooks. No actors. Just raw lyrics and raw footage.
Here's the English translation...
[Verse 1: Shurik'N]
The ink flows, the blood spills, the blotting paper
Absorbs emotion, bagful of images in my memory
I talk about what my people live and what I see
Men drowning in despair, drifting away
Men who destroy each other for ₣20,000 worth of hash
I’m talking about my daily life, listen close, my bars don’t make you laugh
Laugh, smile, some have lost theirs, thinking about Momo
Who told me, “See you later;” never did I see him again
We tempt the Devil to escape the struggle, you did it brother
But it’s still poverty for those pushing on behind you
Pushing, growing in the middle of a concrete field
Growing up in a parking lot, watching the big brothers bring home the cash
Poverty makes you do crazy things, within a blink of an eye,
You cut, you press, you chop it up, you bag it up, you sell
Non-stop, we recoup the crack money
Yeah, that’s life and don’t talk about minimum wage here, here
Here, everyone dreams of a GTI Golf and Tacchini tracksuit
Picking up women like Manny
From Scarface, I’m like everyone else: straight tripping
Thank God, I grew up, I’m smarter, he just dies at the end
The end, the hunger, the hunger justifies the means, four, five misdemeanors
And we hold on ‘til tomorrow, then we’ll see what happens
Walking in the shadow of Evil from dusk to dawn
Lurking in a corner, knife in hand, outlaws on dirt paths
Path, path, there aren’t two to be a god
Pounded on like an anvil, don’t look down, the envious always want more
One way to get in, two to get out, ¾ leather
Succeed, faint, become a memory
Memories, of being so young, an entire phonebook
Of guys wiped off the map like a blackboard, Pow! Darkness
Believe in who? In what? These guys are all mirrors
Going in the same direction, trying to put cash in drawers
Drawer, you live your life in one, you end up in one
Before we reach Hell on Earth, we build our own Heaven
Fiction, harsh delusion, get out some weed
Reality hits too hard, need to escape
Escape, escape, a work of imagination, here all is gray
The walls, the minds, the rats at night
We all want to break out from this prison, a needle passes by, some take action
False diversion, one day you blow your fuse
Lead, a lucky few have some in their brains
Others shoot it at each other for a fistful of cash, fraternal war
Weapons grow like weed
The image of the gangsta spreads like gangrene sowing seeds
Seeds, seeds, seeds of delinquents, what were you hoping for?
From the youngest age, they are taught that nothing makes a man except francs
From the hidden sniper to the organized gang, the root turns into a field
Too big to stop
Arrested, unlucky at the start, lucky in the end
You do three months, the rumor spreads, the rep grows bigger
The steel bars don’t scare me anymore, that’s the routine, a common thorn
A fine sketch with Chinese ink, a figurine that every so often moves
Move, moved by a vicious appetite for money
The night falls, no matter the weather, we roll the dice, playing with fire
Win or lose, come back with more paper
Whatever helps, no one will ask you where it came from
Whether you fall or not, for everything, for nothing, we take the risk, no worries, cousin
In either case, we get out just fine
To live like a dog or a prince? It’s no contest
We make a choice, grilling lamb, shining jewels
Jewels, a pocket full of dreams but the target is too far away, the arrow
Ricochets, the Devil adds an ugly notch, the guys tick
Their own box, shoot for the cash, I hear the bells ring like sounds of the pickaxe
Digging a hole is too easy
Easy-peasy, easy as taking a cowardly rich man’s jacket, every grandma’s nightmare
And porcelain through the windshield
Clack! Razor to the purse, here comes the cash
This is everyday, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow
Tomorrow? That’s not the problem, we live day to day
We can’t waste time or we lose money and let other people get it
Tomorrow is far away, there’s no rush, little by little
We move forward by watching our asses so we can talk about the future
Future, the future won’t change much, the future generations
Will be worse off than us, their lives will be bleaker
Our future is the next minute, the goal: anticipate it
Predict it before you get nailed
Nailed, nailed to a bench, nothing else to do so we drink beer
We whistle at hot girls with no brothers
The walls hold us back like flypaper
Here we are, we’ll never get out, Satan holds us back with his pitchfork
Fork, like forks stacking up the risks second after second
Each event is another stone for our slings
Against their lasers, some lose hope, many fall to the ground
The obstinate refuse a suicidal fight
Disgusting, disgusted, the Gods watch Man head
Towards the wrong side of eternity with a firm, steady gait
Preferring to wander high and low ‘til we’re bored as fukk
Only here do angels sell something to smoke
Smoke, another toke, the veil falls off
Head resting on a pillow, for a moment all the shyt goes away
Through the window, a scream enters, a man is getting mugged
A kid is getting arrested, for a Cartier, handcuffed
Handcuffed, feet and fists bound by fate
Imprisoned in the dungeon, destined for the jail cell
The turf, the arena, we grew up with the games
Courageous gladiators but life is tough so we wrestle the best we can
[Verse 2: Akhenaton]
In high-rise buildings
Misunderstanding, gangs of kids calling themselves badboys
Friction, excitement, undercover cops on patrol
Useless paranoia, stupid myths and legends
Hashish by the kilo, poets armed with pens
Stockpile of creativity, hangars, silos
They take off to Block 20, pack of Heineken in hand
Lighting up a big joint to forget
African princesses, plastic single mothers
Full of glue, psychotic hordes of ghetto youth
The black market, squad hard as a rock
Little Dons who control their drug spots
We don’t care for Veuve Cliquot, crowded like Mexico City
Cemented horizons, pickpockets, drug addicts
Honest people ignored, supercops, Zorros
Politicians and journalists visiting the zoo
Upstanding Muslims, humble family patriarchs
Stereos that blast my jungle music
Devastated entryways, debris from blown up car wrecks
A swarm of kids coming to beg
Shimmering orange lights, smoking chimneys
Pickup soccer games on the asphalt
Golf VR6, screeching tires
Silence broken by police sirens
Façonnable polos, tacky tracksuits
Mothers with admirable character traits
Counterfeit hashish, prison stories
Stupid divisions, piles of firewood
Stereotypes of the East, cooking with spices
Charming tree-inspired names for buildings in the cement forest
Desert at noon, beating sun
Comes to life at night, during the month of Ramadan
Lack of distraction creates action
Games of dice, belote, gambling, sinful attractions
Interrupted laughter, impromptu arrests
Corrupt district mayors
Treading on used needles, dreaming of traveling
Car radios at a bargain, the prize: salvaged stereos
Jerks who never come back, psychopaths with no pity
Strongest friendships that a guy could find
Sports talents wasting their time on sandlots
New jokes, awful pickup lines
Individuals who crack up because they’re stressed
No one move and no one gets hurt
Fumes of ether, stain removers, alcohol
Brink’s vans stopped like a gold mine
It’s not funny, the dog bites locked up in a cage
Slobbering in rage, the cage bars reach to the second floor
Selling hash is wise if you want to take out your woman
If you get caught, keep your mouth shut and there’s no drama
But school isn’t far away, neither is trouble
It starts with spanking and ends with police custody
Look at the streets, what changes? Only the seasons
You crave concrete, spit concrete, shyt concrete
You’re fighting for brass, but does it pay off?
Don’t regret the money when the BAC knocks at the door
Tri-colored posters treat us like dirt
This isn’t Manila but the cigarettes make like torpedos
Guilty or innocent, a matter of money and percentage
Eye for eye, mouth for tooth, it’s stressful
Early in the morning, the family is already outside, Baader’s gang [says Kader but I couldn’t find any info on someone with that name]
“fukk you!” shyt coming out their ass, they already know how to swear
It’s not easy to talk about love, working at a factory
The beautiful women break their backs in the kitchens
Politicians talk of renovation, reassure us
But it’s still the same shyt behind the last layer of paint
Dead dreams are lying, buried in the yard
At 12 years old, driving, dying, ending up like Tupac Shakur
Looking at the photos, now an adult, homie
So many friends have already died in motorcycles
You win once, you lose a thousand times, the future is a lottery
For that I dedicate my raps like an ex-voto
Here you’re judged with a big reputation
Kill yourself and everyday jerks will piss on your door
That’s the minimum tariff and watch out
Those who are strong enough transform the area into an oppidum
Frozen, electrified ambiance, there’s many seats
Frozen concrete feels like an ice field
The kids want to go outside, the no’s come down like clubs
DSU grants get pumped into shytty artists
So much energy lost due to unfounded prejudice
The financial decision makers' visions are full of shyt
Meanwhile, dreams fall and flounder, some people rap
The stones leave, stolen cars skid out of control
School is a shythole, they’re opening fire extinguishers in the halls
The hood is turning into a hunting ground for inspectors
Your back has an eye because the water is riddled with germs
Recoup the money, we’re playing dice in a dark coffin
It’s too much, guys shyt on the Romeo complex
After a smoke sesh, hotwire a car and have a rodeo
Life is rough if you have a dream
They put rubber in the hash and still sell it to you for khams alaf
You tell me, “It’s fine; it’s not too much”
But for tcherno, when a Hamidou has nothing, it’s a lot
I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just a b*stard
I had to celebrate my 20th birthday with three bottles of Valstar
The drug spot ends tonight, who is the kingpin?
From the outset, the walls are reserved like parking spots
But who can understand the full mène
That an exhausted guy who hasn’t been hit is pushed by hate
And that you’re not born programmed to do bad
I don’t think about tomorrow because tomorrow is far away
No hooks. No actors. Just raw lyrics and raw footage.Here's the English translation...
[Verse 1: Shurik'N]
The ink flows, the blood spills, the blotting paper
Absorbs emotion, bagful of images in my memory
I talk about what my people live and what I see
Men drowning in despair, drifting away
Men who destroy each other for ₣20,000 worth of hash
I’m talking about my daily life, listen close, my bars don’t make you laugh
Laugh, smile, some have lost theirs, thinking about Momo
Who told me, “See you later;” never did I see him again
We tempt the Devil to escape the struggle, you did it brother
But it’s still poverty for those pushing on behind you
Pushing, growing in the middle of a concrete field
Growing up in a parking lot, watching the big brothers bring home the cash
Poverty makes you do crazy things, within a blink of an eye,
You cut, you press, you chop it up, you bag it up, you sell
Non-stop, we recoup the crack money
Yeah, that’s life and don’t talk about minimum wage here, here
Here, everyone dreams of a GTI Golf and Tacchini tracksuit
Picking up women like Manny
From Scarface, I’m like everyone else: straight tripping
Thank God, I grew up, I’m smarter, he just dies at the end
The end, the hunger, the hunger justifies the means, four, five misdemeanors
And we hold on ‘til tomorrow, then we’ll see what happens
Walking in the shadow of Evil from dusk to dawn
Lurking in a corner, knife in hand, outlaws on dirt paths
Path, path, there aren’t two to be a god
Pounded on like an anvil, don’t look down, the envious always want more
One way to get in, two to get out, ¾ leather
Succeed, faint, become a memory
Memories, of being so young, an entire phonebook
Of guys wiped off the map like a blackboard, Pow! Darkness
Believe in who? In what? These guys are all mirrors
Going in the same direction, trying to put cash in drawers
Drawer, you live your life in one, you end up in one
Before we reach Hell on Earth, we build our own Heaven
Fiction, harsh delusion, get out some weed
Reality hits too hard, need to escape
Escape, escape, a work of imagination, here all is gray
The walls, the minds, the rats at night
We all want to break out from this prison, a needle passes by, some take action
False diversion, one day you blow your fuse
Lead, a lucky few have some in their brains
Others shoot it at each other for a fistful of cash, fraternal war
Weapons grow like weed
The image of the gangsta spreads like gangrene sowing seeds
Seeds, seeds, seeds of delinquents, what were you hoping for?
From the youngest age, they are taught that nothing makes a man except francs
From the hidden sniper to the organized gang, the root turns into a field
Too big to stop
Arrested, unlucky at the start, lucky in the end
You do three months, the rumor spreads, the rep grows bigger
The steel bars don’t scare me anymore, that’s the routine, a common thorn
A fine sketch with Chinese ink, a figurine that every so often moves
Move, moved by a vicious appetite for money
The night falls, no matter the weather, we roll the dice, playing with fire
Win or lose, come back with more paper
Whatever helps, no one will ask you where it came from
Whether you fall or not, for everything, for nothing, we take the risk, no worries, cousin
In either case, we get out just fine
To live like a dog or a prince? It’s no contest
We make a choice, grilling lamb, shining jewels
Jewels, a pocket full of dreams but the target is too far away, the arrow
Ricochets, the Devil adds an ugly notch, the guys tick
Their own box, shoot for the cash, I hear the bells ring like sounds of the pickaxe
Digging a hole is too easy
Easy-peasy, easy as taking a cowardly rich man’s jacket, every grandma’s nightmare
And porcelain through the windshield
Clack! Razor to the purse, here comes the cash
This is everyday, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow
Tomorrow? That’s not the problem, we live day to day
We can’t waste time or we lose money and let other people get it
Tomorrow is far away, there’s no rush, little by little
We move forward by watching our asses so we can talk about the future
Future, the future won’t change much, the future generations
Will be worse off than us, their lives will be bleaker
Our future is the next minute, the goal: anticipate it
Predict it before you get nailed
Nailed, nailed to a bench, nothing else to do so we drink beer
We whistle at hot girls with no brothers
The walls hold us back like flypaper
Here we are, we’ll never get out, Satan holds us back with his pitchfork
Fork, like forks stacking up the risks second after second
Each event is another stone for our slings
Against their lasers, some lose hope, many fall to the ground
The obstinate refuse a suicidal fight
Disgusting, disgusted, the Gods watch Man head
Towards the wrong side of eternity with a firm, steady gait
Preferring to wander high and low ‘til we’re bored as fukk
Only here do angels sell something to smoke
Smoke, another toke, the veil falls off
Head resting on a pillow, for a moment all the shyt goes away
Through the window, a scream enters, a man is getting mugged
A kid is getting arrested, for a Cartier, handcuffed
Handcuffed, feet and fists bound by fate
Imprisoned in the dungeon, destined for the jail cell
The turf, the arena, we grew up with the games
Courageous gladiators but life is tough so we wrestle the best we can
[Verse 2: Akhenaton]
In high-rise buildings
Misunderstanding, gangs of kids calling themselves badboys
Friction, excitement, undercover cops on patrol
Useless paranoia, stupid myths and legends
Hashish by the kilo, poets armed with pens
Stockpile of creativity, hangars, silos
They take off to Block 20, pack of Heineken in hand
Lighting up a big joint to forget
African princesses, plastic single mothers
Full of glue, psychotic hordes of ghetto youth
The black market, squad hard as a rock
Little Dons who control their drug spots
We don’t care for Veuve Cliquot, crowded like Mexico City
Cemented horizons, pickpockets, drug addicts
Honest people ignored, supercops, Zorros
Politicians and journalists visiting the zoo
Upstanding Muslims, humble family patriarchs
Stereos that blast my jungle music
Devastated entryways, debris from blown up car wrecks
A swarm of kids coming to beg
Shimmering orange lights, smoking chimneys
Pickup soccer games on the asphalt
Golf VR6, screeching tires
Silence broken by police sirens
Façonnable polos, tacky tracksuits
Mothers with admirable character traits
Counterfeit hashish, prison stories
Stupid divisions, piles of firewood
Stereotypes of the East, cooking with spices
Charming tree-inspired names for buildings in the cement forest
Desert at noon, beating sun
Comes to life at night, during the month of Ramadan
Lack of distraction creates action
Games of dice, belote, gambling, sinful attractions
Interrupted laughter, impromptu arrests
Corrupt district mayors
Treading on used needles, dreaming of traveling
Car radios at a bargain, the prize: salvaged stereos
Jerks who never come back, psychopaths with no pity
Strongest friendships that a guy could find
Sports talents wasting their time on sandlots
New jokes, awful pickup lines
Individuals who crack up because they’re stressed
No one move and no one gets hurt
Fumes of ether, stain removers, alcohol
Brink’s vans stopped like a gold mine
It’s not funny, the dog bites locked up in a cage
Slobbering in rage, the cage bars reach to the second floor
Selling hash is wise if you want to take out your woman
If you get caught, keep your mouth shut and there’s no drama
But school isn’t far away, neither is trouble
It starts with spanking and ends with police custody
Look at the streets, what changes? Only the seasons
You crave concrete, spit concrete, shyt concrete
You’re fighting for brass, but does it pay off?
Don’t regret the money when the BAC knocks at the door
Tri-colored posters treat us like dirt
This isn’t Manila but the cigarettes make like torpedos
Guilty or innocent, a matter of money and percentage
Eye for eye, mouth for tooth, it’s stressful
Early in the morning, the family is already outside, Baader’s gang [says Kader but I couldn’t find any info on someone with that name]
“fukk you!” shyt coming out their ass, they already know how to swear
It’s not easy to talk about love, working at a factory
The beautiful women break their backs in the kitchens
Politicians talk of renovation, reassure us
But it’s still the same shyt behind the last layer of paint
Dead dreams are lying, buried in the yard
At 12 years old, driving, dying, ending up like Tupac Shakur
Looking at the photos, now an adult, homie
So many friends have already died in motorcycles
You win once, you lose a thousand times, the future is a lottery
For that I dedicate my raps like an ex-voto
Here you’re judged with a big reputation
Kill yourself and everyday jerks will piss on your door
That’s the minimum tariff and watch out
Those who are strong enough transform the area into an oppidum
Frozen, electrified ambiance, there’s many seats
Frozen concrete feels like an ice field
The kids want to go outside, the no’s come down like clubs
DSU grants get pumped into shytty artists
So much energy lost due to unfounded prejudice
The financial decision makers' visions are full of shyt
Meanwhile, dreams fall and flounder, some people rap
The stones leave, stolen cars skid out of control
School is a shythole, they’re opening fire extinguishers in the halls
The hood is turning into a hunting ground for inspectors
Your back has an eye because the water is riddled with germs
Recoup the money, we’re playing dice in a dark coffin
It’s too much, guys shyt on the Romeo complex
After a smoke sesh, hotwire a car and have a rodeo
Life is rough if you have a dream
They put rubber in the hash and still sell it to you for khams alaf
You tell me, “It’s fine; it’s not too much”
But for tcherno, when a Hamidou has nothing, it’s a lot
I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just a b*stard
I had to celebrate my 20th birthday with three bottles of Valstar
The drug spot ends tonight, who is the kingpin?
From the outset, the walls are reserved like parking spots
But who can understand the full mène
That an exhausted guy who hasn’t been hit is pushed by hate
And that you’re not born programmed to do bad
I don’t think about tomorrow because tomorrow is far away
