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Genius English Translations - Lunatic Le Son Qui Met La Pression English Translation Lyrics

[Lunatic - Le Son Qui Met la Pression/ English Translation]

[Intro : Booba]
The sound applying pressure, son
The oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs

[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound applying pressure, son
It's the oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Verse 1: Booba]
Our story at least, I hope it's not too sad in the end
In my crew it's crowded and it's craziness
That prevails yeah, we often talk, do anything and evеrything
Noisiness like an R1 without tailpipe, I'm impolitе
I deny in front my dad, living at night, get a laugh in front of The Godfather
Shit ain't rose but fuck, here we're in Paris
Pissing outside a bar, Hauts-de-Seine is my navel
This is the only scar that deserves a name
To deserve to be a man, to have the power of many and be as one
If you kill one, you know well that one remains
Too many troubles, offensive
It's the stretchers' warbling, 18 carats on the teeth
[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound applying pressure, son
Its the oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories
The sound applying pressure, son
It's the oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Verse 2: Ali]
So you wanna be a thug?
My presence, a menace for the khattayes, Muay Thai mindset
Warrior being at peace with myself, where chaos 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
Toasted over some traits and melanin
They get us to sleep but my faith in the hereafter awakens me
Bring my strenth for my family, my team, my closed ones
92 Infantry
Each of us delivered 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 mobilized
From the front to the back soldiers, born to die
There's no point in running during the rest
I remember of instants being lost
Walking razor blade in the jaw often in the subway
Assaulting with a smile on, ready to die as martyr
Executioners need to learn what pain is
This is the oppressed against the oppression
Lunatic revolution
[Chorus: Booba & Ali]
The sound applying pressure, son
Its the oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories
The sound applying pressure, son
It's the oppressed against the oppression
No more masters out here, no more MCs
No more seasons, so much reason in my stories

[Couplet 3: Booba]
Dirty rap like my money and my bank savings
To work or to slang, people waiting in line all around
Raw life, bad luck background
Among the saï-saïs, armbands, my destiny wrote on T.P
Anti-faggots, entire pages to guarantee a violent death
Bro, here it's in a flash
Horrified because I recite what's illegal kho
I'm a spoon, a lighter, 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? When I was born I was khaki
The sound applying pressure
Tonight, this is for Ferber, Pont-de-Sèvres and the square