[Intro : Booba]
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs

[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Verse 1: Booba]
Our story at least, I hope its not too sad in the end
In my crew it's crowded and it's madnеss
That prevails yeah, we oftеn talk, do anything and everything
Noisiness like an R1 without tailpipe, I'm impolite
I deny in front my dad, living at night, laughing in front of the godfather
It ain't rose but fuck, here it's Paris
Pissing in front of the bar, Hauts-de-Seine is my navel
Its the only scar that deserve a name
Deserving to be a men having the power of Many and be as one
If you kill one you know well that one remains
Too much trouble, offensives
It's the stretchers' warbling, 18 carats on the gums

[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Verse 2: Ali]
So you wanna do thug stuff
My presence a menace for the khattayes, Muay Thai mindset
Warrior being at peace with himself, where the KO reigns
The dough has enslaved more than one
Culprit son of bitches are forever pleading
Want to dishonor our pseudonymes, A-l-i, Booba
Say that Lunatic and criminality are synonymes
Being toast for some traits and melanin
We're being asleep but my faith in god awakens me
Bring my strenth for my family, my team, my close one
92 Infantry
All being birth between joy and pain
Seeing the word as a sick joke, wounds, blood and disfigured bodies
Song of siren, riots
Cries and stretchers, civilized
We have the art of war and our troops are mobilized
From the front to the back soldiers, born to die
There's no point in running during the rest
I remember instants being lost
Walking razor blade in the jaw often in the metro
Assaulting with the smile, ready to die a martyr
The executioner need to learn what pain is
Its the oppressed against the suppression
Lunatic, Révolution

[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories
The sound that puts under pressure, boy
Its the oppressed against the suppression
There's no more master here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Couplet 3 : Booba]
Dirty rap songs like my money and my bank savings
To work or to deal, there's line everywhere
Raw life, bad luck background
Among the saï-saïs, armbands, my destiny wrote on T.P
Anti-faggots, entire pages to guaranty a violent death
Brother, here it's fast
Horrified because I recite the illegal Kho
I'm a spoon, some fire, a needle and some lemon
Stop jabbering, you're a real one, yeah
Since yesterday, me since my first K-way
Who you're talking to? To me, Brahms or Issakha?
To who, me? I was born khaki
The sound that puts under pressure
Tonight, it's for Ferber, Pont-de-Sèvres and the Square