Lacrim – Partis de rien (English lyrics)

Verse :
Entirely real but you’re carrying clutches
We’ve got the weapons, God protects us
You’re getting married, the demons are forming the convoy
From Miami the snow flowed in
The storm didn’t make any trees grow
Submission to God, submission to weapons
You’re afraid of dying, baby
I don’t want my son to be a snitch, or for him to become a drug addict
No lies, no rumors either
My crew is shipping out cargos
Across the whole of Europe, across the whole of Europe
Across the whole of Europe, we’ll fuck your mother up from on the motorbike
They won’t ever get me, don’t worry daddy
I’m celebrating the profits, I’m feasting on my meal
I need me my money, an island at Greece
There’s only bullets and the truth that hurts
Fucking minimum wage and a house rent that never gets cheaper
And I’m not the type to get screwed by life
Little ambition for little salary
I slept outside, it was cold motherfucker
Great suffering equals fucking your mother up
I’ve done some wrong, but it was necessary
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I’m 16, I’m dreaming on money
I know that my destiny is far away
I would like to have enough to buy a V12, some briefcases and some Louboutin
Hola papa, I’ve got the gun in hand
I’ll stay until tomorrow
From Medellin, two pilots on the phone
Bring me some kilos wrapped up, you’ll have Paris in your palms
I’ll go sleep when the sky will turn blue
You gotta make a killing my friend
Two hundred bitches, made a few millions motherfucker
You gotta stay the same, not become a bitch
This is the story of those kids that started out from nothing, ma gueule
Belek on the beat
R.I.P.R.O. 3

Outro :
Don’t cry mama
It’s just a drama
We don’t pretend
I wasn’t there
Madam the judge, at that hour, I was at home
We’re gonna shock them
We’ll make millions
I’m down for smoking you, ok
Oh non non non non non
It’s true that between getting me dead or alive will depend on you
At night the demons meet up at Porte de Clichy and they only talk about me
They want me in the flames of hell (I’ve got my heart and my bullet proof, bro)
The cops on my cell phone (nowadays there’s PGP, bro)
The vice, son, that’s all you’ll see
And the cops my son
You know that we’re not made for this


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