BOOBA - Ma définition (English lyrics) - The International Connect

[Verse 1]
We grow there a bit in a crooked line
Skate, BMX then fuck the RATP, all of this cadenced by rap music
My youth has the color of train, RER C
During the trip I was dreaming of making it
Proud to be one
We cultivate our anti-cop and officer hate
So we become boss of weapons handling
My people anihilated
Only temporary until the rébellion of Africa and the West indies
It’s ninety two us
We’re little, we want to con Paris, we know nothing us
And there’s a lot of stuff waiting to be taken, and then you learn quickly with punches
Come back with your balls, your homies hit with theirs elbow
It’s growing like an nettle among roses
And they’re too many so I call my brother brambles
It’s a state of mind, bending only if the daisies I push
Receiving order neither from the pigs nor the teachers
Hateful, from our place come the word venenous
The street give advices, the judge often console you
Soft drug or it’s the bug, the street raise you and kill you
Let me fire so that I stun myself with cannabis
Blow but I deny, here hyenas have a badge
And I hope it ain’t one of us that serve as a gnu
Lunacy, blood, melancholy, rap, red thread
Risks and sound: my definition

[Chorus]
I’m from the Hauts de Seine, obscene is my style, my behavior
I’m unstable on the mike, and in the street I live any old how
I don’t give a fuck except homies, family and cash
Need racks, need whisky, I need to eat, no?
Listen, taste my flow, son, cause I don’t need any sponsors
Rap, my crew and the vice, that’s how I get through
Famous for killing M.I.C. from here to NYC
Blood, risks and sound : my definition

[Verse 2]
My definition, I always want more
I don’t wait for theirs fucking wage or theirs fucking bus
Unsubmissive, I’m foolishly hustling
Cause I wanna see this country in underwear
I wanted to know why Africa is in such a poor state
From 1st grade to 10th grade they told me about the Mona Lisa and the germans
Here the devil reel you in, run away from his rodeo
Sequester you in the hall with coke, piss on your aureola
Delabel, Sony ou Virgin
You see, my style don’t need any security guard
10 grands and 10 grands, if this pig of Chirac was black
I’m dark, sleeping with one eye like a Scud missile
I ain’t welcome, but I’m here
Taking back what’s mine, I came to eat and crap here
Buried in the upheaval when there’s no income
By dint of complaining, I don’t wait for money anymore, I go get it
Went off the rail too young, I cannot come back down again
And I try not to be in need from January to December
Or I’ll make you come or I’ll hurt you, it’s very simple
My definition with texts you need to take with half a pinch of salt