Arde París (Con Dernier Pro)

- Hello?
- Dernier, what's up? It's Zenit.
- Yeah, Zenit, how are you?
- I was listening to the radio, these news in the French neighborhood.
- Yeah, it's crazy, forget about it.
- How about you?
- Good.
- Because here the information is worrying.
- Yeah, yeah, don't worry, don't worry, it's fine.

Cars are burning in all the streets of France, and even in Spain they ask me what do you think of all these leaders who are leading us to the edge. Today, I might as well say that I miss my childhood. They've dirtied the flag and want us to take the blame, ever since it's been burning under the windows across the street. Yo.

It's been a while that we've been saying it smells like gas, ignoring our calls, they've stoked the embers. But what do we have left if even our gangsters can't reconnect. Between the political class and my youth, between their ignorance and our tons of SOS, between our complaints, our screams, the hangings. In fear of forgiveness, but who should ask for forgiveness? Yo. France, you can dare to be ashamed, as Egz says, we're not from the same world.

Lyrics of a minority music, they warned about it a decade ago. If for every vandal, every voice that rose up, and asked to be heard, was silenced and labeled as violent. Count on one hand how many have listened, or that for so many years the neighborhood has tried to tell. Sit with them, don't throw them to the wolves. Abuses by the gendarmes that make the neighborhood explode.

They had one way out, to rebel in that promised land that for three generations repeated the message that contains the sixth look. Raise the barricade and wash the laundry; dirty laundry that was burned by that blaze of helplessness. They have served no purpose, they have not stained the facade of a nation that every dawn sings the same ballad, pretending to be a storm.

They want to bury my youth with repression. They want to bury my youth and its motivation.

France in turmoil, close to revolution, when the old men in suits can't find a solution, and blame us and accuse rap and its charts of disorder. But the disorder comes from the urgency of the times and the times tend to lack real political orders. It lacks ideas and prolific leaders, it lacks guts and us within the hemisphere. So we don't talk and if we try, we don't understand each other, so we shout and they don't listen. France, dare to be ashamed or do you prefer us to settle the scores.

Today your mind wonders, will the same happen here? Today everyone points out that rap and its mechanism are to blame for unsociable gangs with insatiable desires for revenge. The rebellion throws them into an abyss from which they will not be able to escape once the earthquake is triggered. Now politicians sharpen everything and divert the issue. MC's put the point on it.

The hope of the disinherited from the neighboring country is dead, and I wonder: 'Will they continue to criminalize the world of Hip-Hop and silence the real problem so that no one talks about it? Listen to the children of your homeland, I say it bluntly. Take care of the people on the street like light. The immigrant is not a criminal for being an immigrant, leader. Understood.

They want to bury my youth with repression. They want to bury my youth and its motivation.