La Foule

Yeah okay
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
And the crowd starts to sing
Lalala
Yeah, Bomayé Musik
It's Prim's Parolier, the Bantu lyricist
Kinshasa
Yeah, me, me, me
Me, it's not fear that I offer you (no)
I don't smoke blunts or even popo
But the audience starts jumping or pogoing
Strike, strike the mic if you came to slander
The crowd knows how to make noise to welcome the Prim's Parolier
Yeah from the start the same screams
Disgrace or mainstream, lyrical or even crime
Don't say it's a crisis or I'll get mad, man
The real bulls gain weight even in a lean period
Shit, you nod your head secretly by the millions
Hey bro, it's the reflection of the butterfly effect
Don't play timid
I've set the rap clocks to Greenwich time so they call me the rapper from Greenwich
I'm a guy with attitude you can call me Ice Cube
I love being the one that the gossipers bother
I don't care as long as the crowd throws their Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
And the crowd starts to sing
Lalala
Yeah, you know what I mean or not
To all the youth from the 9-9, from Cergy, from Créteil and its surroundings
That's it man
9-3 I see you too (Prims)
My Congolese from the 9-1, Bomayé Musik
My sound goes boom, animal pain, zoom on the capital
Turn in a recital and aim at the jealous in the neck
You're eager to see my lyrical fall
Might as well wait for the day Nicki Minaj wears the niqab
Delicate slalom between the detractors
I talk to the man not the actor, what's up, you're a scratcher, man
Don't put your zen in my ness-bi
You have the same head as E.T. like this Nessbeal apprentice
MC don't play the benevolent Obiwan
In front of the padawans you wielded the mic-laser stuttering
It's scary, even all your guys affirm it (what)
That at 32 years old to sell records you try to copy La Fouine's style
You better watch out, I'm reactive on all levels, man
Even if it's true that I shouldn't have gotten involved in that story
Admit that I'm your bro, that the grudge goes away
Come to my concerts and throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
And the crowd starts to sing
Lalala
Yeah, I told you you've never heard French rap
Hey, are we going for a third one or not
A little third one for the road
My rap an unexplained plea, Bomayé dictated
Obama of Paname, we walk in a team, hey
Our portraits are tracked, trials for my records and
Shift and panache in our faces and the kis-dé
No need to sniff, no need to be lifted
None of the rappers who are so afraid to take risks, hey
A ball to disappear, a mic to exist
Admit that I smoked it, so light your lighters
Warn your guys that when there's Youss, there's Sam, DJ Stresh and S. Pi that come with
And on stage we are from the top school
In 2010 I toured so much, I could have won the Vendée Globe
It's for the kids in the pit and the hoodlums opé'
Who sing loudly and turn concerts into karaoke
For the girls who always support anyway
And dress up with punch lines throwing a Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
Throw, throw, throw, throw your Y in the air
And the crowd starts to sing
Lalala
Okay, okay (no gestures, we said no gestures bro)
It's Youssoupha (Prim's Parolier, the Bantu lyricist)
This is just an unreleased track like that
Because I'm bored between tour dates
Just wait, soon we'll take care of the bomb that will be the third album
Okay, Bomayé Musik
No gestures, I said no gestures
Don't worry, don't worry
Wait, wait, just rap