MISTER YOU – 3.5.7 (English lyrics)

Unique verse :
Ok, go fuck yourself even if you’re strapped up
I’m dropping the album, so you gotta come get it
I only dream about stacks, cars, and Audemars Piguet
New girls, I have the same taste as Gerard Piqué
How to explain this to you, you wanna please me ? Bring over all your girlfriends
I pull my dick out, piss on the tsunami
Talk to us about your life, not about other people
No Time Records, Sta Ive Music is nothing but poison, nothing but good music
Your girl is fucking ugly I don’t want her phone number
2013 rhymes with 700 000 euros
Mister-Mister You from the zoogatazoo
A bar of hash, a pen, a paper a big pile of money, shit is crazy
1-2 1-2 test, ghetto rap, microphone check
Don’t think that I’m playing around
There’s those who play at The Champions League, and there’s those that stay on the bench
Fuck the zeros, whack ass class subject, big up to those that are on the cheque
I took everything, I left nothing behind, not even a little something on the shelf
When things are Kasher back where I’m from, we consider them halal, but when things are halal they don’t consider them as kasher
Don’t try to understand, there’s nothing to get, you gotta grab everything before they catch you
Racial profiling, the judges wish they could hang us
I’m still unique, so please don’t compare me
Turn the speakers up, the flow that the sound engineer digs
If only you knew what really goes on down stairs of the house
It’s the road that ends up on the street, things that would make you lose your mind
Eric Besson’s worst nightmare, the little kids are committing assaults
Their parents are starting to feel the pressure, their big brothers are in prison
They no longer respect the older guys, they don’t give a fuck about their age
They know that when you’re strapped up under a hoody, you can scare away a buffalo
Yeah we’re coming through with our skim mask on, motherfuck the bouncer
We’re not aiming for the moon, it’s on our balls that we place our bets
We’re twisted without being from Pisa, we’re traumatizing the rap game
In the midst of a crisis, there’s only the Quran that we read
Freestyling repeatedly, we rap above the competition
I don’t run away when it’s time to pay the tab, I’m missing a sentence that rhymes with “ison”
We all dream of pretty bitches, of having Visas, Mink coats
Their whole ancestor’s heritage won’t be worth the 1/4 of my editions
Fuck TV, fuck them and their TV shows
Tell them that I’m crazy, that I talk to the demons and that I have visions
Machine gun hidden in the bushes, yeah I’m overflowing with ambition
Everything that I’ll need is in my boxers, I’m ready for every mission

Outro :
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
Just my Atari helmet and my 3.5.7
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
Just my Atari helmet and my 3.5.7
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
Just my Atari helmet and my 3.5.7
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
I don’t need anyone’s help to start spraying
Just my Atari helmet and my 3.5.7