Seth Gueko – Titi Parisien (English lyrics)

1st verse :
This is real Parisian Rap
I would make the misery disappear if I was a magician
I’ll tell you what would be ironic for a plastic surgeon
It’s for him to see his girlfriend leave him for the gym teacher
When he just gave her a breast make over
I’m starting to miss the old hip hop scene with Gilles
X-Men, Wu-Tang Killa Bees and the swarm
We’re stigmatized because we’re not angels
Mister officer, we know who’s the one drinking the Pastis 51
You can get yourself a bullet for a dope spot
The cops, to them, you’re nothing
If you’re liquidating a guy, aim good
Because one injured guy is worth many
I need to stop drinking beers, I’m getting fat like the Michelin guy
It’s the end of times, the free masons are giving me secret eye winks
I keep hearing that HIV is sill killing, where are the pharmaceutical institutions ?
Fuck, fuck their esoteric logos
If I could, I would distribute thermal blanket to all the homeless
Outraged, by the amount of old ladies that love Derrick
When you know that Horst Trappert was a fucking SS
France is scary, shout out to Clément Meric
Each skin head hunter deserves a fucking stack
I rap shamelessly, standing straight like a volcano in Auvergne
Against the drunkards that governs us
I like men with firm grips, firm handshakes
We should hogtie all the snitches on the railroad tracks
A sincere friendship is beautiful like a burning prison
Put in some earplugs in hell, there’s people screaming
I rap about the streets, no one listens to mambo around here
You’re in lethal danger like Jo Di Mambro’s followers back in the Vercors

Chorus :
This is real Parisian rap
With a knife in my pocket like a Tunisian
Life is dangerous, we all die at the end
Homie, Rapping fast doesn’t means that you’re rapping good
Parisian, mutt face
Yeah, but Parisian, hell of a flow
PSG on the football jersey, like “Paris-Seth-Gueko”

2nd verse :
This is real Parisian rap
That came straight out of a Franck Margerin’s book
Martian rap like Grishka and his brother Igor
A gore Parisian sound, not a Périgord’s
One that expresses himself with french slangs and oxymoron
One who, not so long ago was slanging dope under the corridor
This is real Parisian rap
I would refused to be called a faggot, even if my name was Poulidor
Still waters run deep
If I’m walking with my head down, it’s because my chain weighs at least two kilos of gold
I’m always loyal to my watch
If you’re broke, homie, va chiner sonokaï (??)
Aight, we wear gloves while using the chromed Winchester
To avoid getting busted
We bathed in crime, we’re swimming in back crawl
Allah y ster, may the lord preserve me from all of Aleister Crowley’s mystic rituals
I’m putting money on the side, that’s money freezing
Among you friends there’s you’re worst enemy disguised
I remain straight like the constellation of Orion
Aligned with the pyramids in Gizeh
Seems like the under cover cops are here, you’re fucked
Get out of here, I circulate between the orgys and the polution
I’m raising my glass of alcohol
To all the working fathers who decided to leave the asbestos infected factorys where they were working at

Chorus :

This is real Parisian rap
With a knife in my pocket like a Tunisian
Life is dangerous, we all die at the end
Homie, rapping fast doesn’t mean that you’re rapping good
Parisian, mutt face
Yeah, but Parisian, hell of a flow
PSG on the football jersey, like “Paris-Seth-Gueko”