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letra de naissance - lucy piew

[verse 1 : clyde]

they try to make me
try to break me, try to change me
in vain, but the pain has made me
i need out, the window pane is breaking
i escape, regret the route
that i’ve taken
deep steps i take and see with amazement
streets are a maze, in a big city
we’ lost for
cutting trees for some pavement
but the particles that we breathe is the payment
the heart of human beings now is aching
pacemakers have replaced peacemakers
i’m begging please for some change and
whoever running this sh-t needs a replacement
and placed deep in a bas-m-nt
like what the f-cks up (fox)?
if you look to the sky (sky)
if you see what i see
i guess you see bs too (cbs)
keep an eye open and never
see an end to (cnn)
the fear
it’s meant to
affect your mental
‘til death is near you
regrets’ in the rearview
mirror, but does it reflect the real you?
does it reflect the real you?

[verse 2 : artaud]

i’m all trash talk, street cats
rabid fox, cold-hop!
pull my d-ck outta your plot, like i’m f-ckin lancelot (blat!)
heard your yacht sinking by my rocks (blat! blat!)
chang chang ghetto french flock
jackpot, punched in the juggernauts!
oooooh, oooh, oooh
naka daka ipponken!
cpu, clyde the kid, jo-my-sista
doctor h the rampage ’ll fist ya
hip hop cops tellin you how to rhyme hot
backstabbing deeper dapper dan in a chop shop
rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
f-ck you, touch my mandala headstrong
something is born or maybe sp-wn…
i don’t know man but it smells about done!
birth control, k!ll it in the egg
coz i’m jack the ped-o-phile, with the extra leg
deg-deg on your kids, as i traumatized them
no exit, i beg you to bag my gang!
it’s wicked, it’s edging, infected fangs
da sh-tpit in the paddywagon, mama slang!
and i’m thinking about the time when you were hesitating
“you’re fit but my gosh, don’t you know it?”

[verse 3 : solista]

j’ai le flow qui matraque, tel un « manco capac » what ?
j’fais le bruit d’un go fast
cpu c’est haut d’gamme, on arrive contre-attaque
côtes c-ssées, grosse baffe, pire qu’un shoot de mescal
dis-leur que le dealer, va débarquer
au taquet de gros son, planqué dans les paquets
toc, toc, laissez-moi rentrer
mes phrases en stocks, te stoppent, je dis danger
je suis formel ici c’est le bordel
le paysage est terrible l’avidité est mortel
je suis formel, j’arrive !!!!!
la naissance de mon rap est un tableau aride
il te baise les monarques dans un merco la nuit
les faux pactisent, et veulent t’-ss-ssiner
tentaculaire est cette cité
tout le monde est attend, yo de cécité
baisé par l’austérité, lobotomisé
monte le son de ton guetto blaster
tu verras que ça frappe là y a pas d’amateur
j’nique la censure, les censeurs et le csa
c’est le son des illettrés, des clébards, des scélérats
ceux qui se sentent opprimés à l’instar du capital
on ne capitule pas, on défonce que tu le veuille ou non
on paralyse l’état tel du venin dans le sang

- lucy piew

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