J'ai mal au mic

Listeners and viewers, give it up
It's the charismatic one, practicing magical rap
I walk through the city with a Walkman and a pack of batteries
So I won't run out in the booth in case of a kidnapping
A "6" in the banana just in case,
You thought I’d step out of the ring after the first KO
I’m back to take you down, dressed like a ref, I drop a title for the warned suicidal
"Depressed air rifle looking for a free temple"
Pass the Greenpeace, enough for ten empty ashtrays
My dreams run deep without stops or divers
Gray in my city, it’s always like that, thanks to the exhaust fumes
Music is my escape route,
Every note gives me a heartbeat
Just need the beat to drop for my mic to thump

Chorus (x2)

I got a mic problem,
It's the only sadness I feel
You stabbed me in the back, there was no blood
'Cause it's sound that flows in my veins, in BPM
Music, you’re my My Lady, without a sweet melody...

I’m back for one more, TWO for the third round...
I never left, but I’m always back
Light on the horizon, we hang out at the bottom of the towers
Where I was yesterday, empty mint tea kettles
Thinking of our friends who didn’t die of old age…