Lacrim - Voyous ft Gradur (English lyrics)

Intro (Lacrim & Gradur) :
Hell yeah (Boma Ye)
Hell yeah
Hell yeah (paw, paw)
Hell yeah (5-9, 9-4)
Hell yeah
Hell yeah (hell yeah this is war)
Hell yeah (hell yeah this is war)
Hell yeah

1rst verse (Lacrim) :
The kids threw stones at the cops
There’s some pure, you’re gonna O.D
We need euros, my arab
A couple Arabs, we’ll speed with the bent wheels
The world is small in order for you to see everything
Our music and our drugs are all over
We don’t have time, we need money my nigga, your niggas
You need balls to do it
Walk with a revolver
My brother if you’re cold hearted, you’ll go tan in hell
Some 11.43 for your gorillas
We’ve got gold records, you’re wack as fuck
We’ve already taken everything, all that is left for you to do
Is to pickpocket a tourist
Never tired
At the blowtorch, don’t talk to us about a lighter
Yeah, tell them my sheguey, there’s some Audemars-Piguet
From the 9-4 to the 9-5, we’re going to screw them all

Chorus (Lacrim & Gradur)(x2) :
Thugs (nigga, nigga, nigga), thugs (eh, eh)
A special one for all the projects
That spends money and shelters real thugs

Bridge (Lacrim & Gradur) :
Hell yeah, this is war (Boma Ye)
Hell yeah, this is war (Boma Ye)
Hell yeah, this is war (paw, paw)
Hell yeah, this is war (5-9, 9-4)
Hell yeah, this is war
Hell yeah, this is war (this is war)
Hell yeah, this is war (yeah this is war)
Hell yeah, this is war

2nd verse (Gradur) :
On the road to success, I come through in an expensive car
Just like that pure shit, we’ll dissolve you if you’re solid
Your rude niggas, Prada, Louis V, Gucci
Dope shit from Morocco nigga no bullshit
My balls and the look in my eyes are empty
But my pockets are full like the bullets of an AK
¡Cállate la boca!, for my mwana mboka
Kilos of weed, yeah, hidden under the cave
We lost some weight, homie, check out the deficiencies
Slang your weed, hash, coke a two forty
We can have you jumped, worst than Teddy Tamgho
I’ve got Rambo’s gun, why work out my abs ?
we’re puncturing, puncturing your rib cage
We’ll fuck your daughter in your bed you dirty racist
Success got a hold of me, not death yet
I’ll send them flying mi amor, gold record
You’re wack as fuck, you never did anything in the projects
You filed a complaint, you snitched on your homies, we know your record
My shegueys, my chappas in the auto
Strapped up in the pants, pick up the soap, fertilization in vitro