(Striker). 1993, Paris-Brooklyn. La puissance du son. WHUUUUT !!!!. . (Guru). It's.... . Chorus:. (Guru) The good, the bad. (MC Solaar) Le bien, le mal.
[Akhenaton]. 10 h37, les opérations commencent. Ma compagnie est fin prête et les missiles s'élancent. Sur la colline d'en face, les canons. Crachent le feu de l'enfer obéissant aux galons.
[Akhenaton]. Backstage ! La tension est à son comble. "why'a que les mecs" do groupe 7, see'était le nombre. Debout avec autant de pression sur le dos.
[Akhenaton]. Backstage ! La tension est à son comble. "why'a que les mecs" do groupe 7, see'était le nombre. Debout avec autant de pression sur le dos.
It was 8:49 on a beautiful 9th day of July. There was not a cloud to speak of so the orange sun hung. Lonely in the sky. I was laying prone in my catbeat home.
If I were blind. Would it all come down to this?. Would you still love me?. . And if I were wrong. Would it still be the same fade to black. As I reach for you?.
[opio]. . Now playful pulpit pussies poppin junk with the pistol. Sweated because I'm dreaded let's get ready to pull a fistful. Of extinction, reachin, quick on the trigger sneakin.
Understand this man is the grandest. The mighty dreaded, niggaz step and get beheaded. Shredded, left a battered broken man. Chosen hand busted from the tussle from the mic which I ignite.
You're irresponsible, no focus. I hold this advice script. I ripped it to shreds I was headed. With sound waves and frequencies. Frequently I'm freakin the flows like hoes.
[...i think underground is. Whatever, your mood or your feelings might be at the time. So long as it's the truth... truth... truth...]. . Verse one:. .
I'm blue mood yall, I slive with jiva yall. I'm actually deep yall, invented time yall. In ten fourths yall, I pay your cap yall. I player late yall and draw down to.