[Intro: Booba & Kennedy]
Hop hop hop, hey, do you remember?
When n***as were not on-trend
Ah, can't walk without being stared at
Impossible to hook up with a blond, even with a straightening
A shitshow, oh yeah my dude
B2O

[Verse 1: Booba]
Before Michael Jackson and the arrival of drugs
I remember when n***as were not on-trend
They said we were stinking, we were poor, the nose flat
I remember the coke fiends, thе nose smashed
At 10 in custody, I'm what they call a vandal
A bit latеr like Joey Starr, I'll be a Boss of scandale
14 y/o, my first joint, my first foo-foo
20 y/o, I'm in prison, mahliche, the wheel turns
I remember the solitary, of those slitting their wrists
Gypsies, Arabs, Corsicans and wops
State of mind: Irritation, my legacy: an empty heart and cojones filled
The future, fuck it, as long as the cash flows
My first race car: R19, 16 valve engines
High-speed chase with the pigs, plead guilty
My first store front, my first victim
Destiné my first hit, Desert Eagle single
I remember the forum walk as if it was yesterday
When there was Dorse, Ali, La dinde, that Yahia wasn't praying yet
You wanted to try us? You shouldn't have, we massacre you
You'll have flashbacks of axes, of macaques
Today, a lot talk about the street
I did this, I did that, yeah sure (yeah)
MC honestly we're not in the same league, you never shined
Before releasing a disc, us, we don't remember you
Do you remember your first slap in the face, your first cap on the head?
Your first verdict, night club round trip in taxis-basket?
Your first KO, first 16 to the assault of hertzian waves?
Your first GF, you-you-your first bitch?
Your first condom, your first swindling?
Your first Heineken? Kennedy, B2O
MC honesly we're not in the same league, you never shined
Before releasing a disc, us, we don't remember you
[Verse 2: Kennedy]
I remember my first Lacoste
When the whole country was dancing the mia like Akhenaton
At the time, I'm spending most of the time fighting
'Cause at night my dad would knock my mother, thinking he was Mike Tyson
At 12, rolling joint, life has a piss taste
At 16, the street replaced my parents
Hood over the head I hang around the 94's streets
I never smile (never), life gave me huge slaps
I remember the Mafia K'1 Fry, Mansa, Lasna
Yézi l'escroc gave me some 500 francs banknotes
Between fighting and many custody, life turned me into a thug
I had a gun before a cell phone
Oh I saw drugs devastating the hood
18 years old this year, 3 homies of mine got killed
As every arabs and ni-ni-n***a
I have the survival instinct in the ghe-ghe-ghetto
In high schools, monitors came to me to buy some dope
Hey, take your hash and get the fuck out, imbecile (get out)
Between bad luck and chores, fuck that
Hands made for gold and they're into crap