HEUSS L'Enfoiré BX LAND #3 English lyrics

Intro :
Hé, Heuss l’enfoiré
BX Land part 3, BX land part X
Libérez Six, hé
N.Y.M.A, Kata Guruma, Hiza Guruma, Maroki 43
Zeg P on the track
Mafia ta3 Napoli

1st verse :
Whore trafficking, grams of coke, 2-3 kilos of hash
Shut your pussy up and buy, we also got tools and one or two stuff
Paris is like Brooklyn, sometimes it’s like Argentina
You can call me Hocine, Hassan or Putin
Heus l’enfoiré, cousin, heroin and cannabis
Ask the neighbor, shit is like a Chinese factory
The cops can’t believe their eyes, Georges Brassens, Roch Voisine
Drunk to the max, I’m drinking Jack, getting side effects
We’re gonna smack your father, respect for who ? I didn’t finish my glass
I’m doing dirt in order to not end up on the floor
I hook you up, I just got out of jail, this is the new school
We get locked up for half a kilo, we go back out looking to cop a ton
In order to make sums, you need men and the good method
I’m on the wrong path for my own good
Dirty money, my cousin you gotta do it clean, the cops are behind the door (yah, yah)

Chorus x2 :
9.2.3.9.0, put that on the badge (yah, yah)
The thing just got out the pot, this is big distribution (yah, yah)
BX Land part 3, this is the re-edition (yah, yah)
The streets are listening, I got all of it’s attention (yah, yah)

2nd verse :
The money from your pussy, I know how much it brings in
I’m hearing the sound of the handcuffs, tomorrow I’ll teleport myself
I don’t give a fuck about the competition anyways, my dick enters your ass
Algeria, Mauritania, Columbia, Bolivia
That’s what you call symphony, I’m going crazy right now
Axelle Red, Liane Foly, Hélène et Caroline
Nothing but piss and vomit, tell me who’s the best
Hiza Guruma, Kata Guruma, don’t let people take advantage of you
I don’t give a fuck about the police officer, I take my commission
I’m no longer 14 years old to be sent on a mission
BX Land part 3, this is the re-edition
You made money, be sure to keep them all for yourself
I know some people who walk into your house, they’re ruthless
This is like the Sinaloa, God for all but every man for himself
I’m in the whore’s street like a guy from Brussels
Antwerpen, Anderlecht, wait I’ll call you Isma (yah, yah)

3rd verse :
This is pure shit from Columbia, I’m on the run all the way to the hide out
I go back outside, I grab the drugs hidden in a ravine
But all of this is random and welcome to Paris
Rotterdam sends money over, grams, there’s mad kilograms, hey
Rosendale and Manny sells weapons
Give me a sign if you see the cops, I’m riding with no helmet and number plate
I convert all this in bullets, I’m totally drunk
I go to prion, there’s nothing more that can stop me
Wheelie the motorbike and the cops will come through investigating
The little kids from the projects want the profits, they’ve got money in mind
You gotta buy or else they extort you, a bar of hash isn’t that expensive
We also got Ziploc bags at some very good prices
It makes the accounts proper, PCS all the way to the Minitel
Arrest warrant, it’s becoming criminal
The cops pull us over, citadels become cartels
There’s my fingerprints on the bag of the gun we used the night before
Call Sabban-Cohen to handle my problems (yah, yah)