My song comes up from the West Coast and not from Saint Tropez
We all dream about breaking away from here but the street drags us down
Like magnets under the ground
One by one my brothers fall
Some end up in straight jacket
Or popping pills
Where do we go?
They seem not to give a shit about our lives
It's a world of deceit
We are fooled by illusions
To contain yourself, the prayer
‘Cause too many young thugs want to test me
I wipe them off straight away
I came here to face every offender
Who comes my way
Who could stop the release of my album?
Hanibal, I know you remember me
You never used to take my songs seriously
Now you’re surprised
When I take the mike
I'm like a radio and don't stop any more
They used to take me for a nutcase
And now they all follow me
I swear

It’s H.A.N.I.B.A.L
Some people say that I make the old school rap
That it's good
A good thing that it doesn't get lost
That the labels have fucked us up
It's my style
I kick it
I like it
I write my own songs
And I need money to record them on CDs
I'm looking forward to it like some await for the Antichrist
I'm in the abyss
I'll soon touch the bottom if I don't wake up
It’s been the crisis for years
They’ve lied to us
And they wonder why we take guns
These fucking judges aren't in our shoes
To him, it doesn’t sound right that you go nuts
You bastard
You've got your pay check every month
You're on the other side of the barrier
How can you judge my misery?
You bastards
I'm boasting on the beat for you
I’ll make France freak out like nails in a gas bottle
I've got homies everywhere from Paris to Val-d'Oise
Listen to all my punchlines
A complex style for has-been people
Yeah!

It's H.A.N.I.B.A.L
Some people say that I make the old school rap
That it's good
A good thing that it doesn't get lost
That the labels have fucked us up
It's my style
I kick it
I like it