I gotta sign papers, bro
Apartments to count, a label to build
You called, click, I hung up
You dialed the wrong number
My gold records, I don't count them anymore
I'm the one who f*cks her
I saw you started rapping
What are you trying to do
You say you're making dough
But you'd better shut up
In one date of my festivals
I earn ten of your showcases
By the way, my brother is humble
Of the two of us he's the less dumb
He doesn't like it much when I take
Do La Boule Noire, OK, then La Cigale, OK
Then the Olympia, OK, then the Zénith, OK
After Bercy, OK, then a stadium, OK
And then you can talk to me
Reload, shoot a bullet, you missed
Nobody tattoos your lyrics
Because I worked my a*s off
Don't look for sh*t, bunch of rookies
It'd be dumb to get your mom f*cked
Soon, it's time to say our goodbyes
By the way, for all the haters
I booked the stadiums for 2022
Soon, I'll break through in Brazil
I vacation in the same places
Salt and lemon, the verse turns acid
I created a cheat code for rap
If you want me to lose everything I've got
We blew up, it's okay, you'll have to get used to it
Your little brother's cafeteria
Bigflo told me "Be insolent, let loose"
The haters will shut their mouths
And the fans can finally open theirs
Paranoid, I feel like these idiots
Talk about me in every track
Rap is like a philosophy paper
In your place, I'd be angrier than that
Me, I filled my city's stadiums
You fill stadiums on FIFA
When I listen to all those c*nts
Bunch of streaming cheaters
I've got files on your crews
That'd end your careers and mine
But I've stars in my eyes
Make a wish if you stare at me
I'll never make the same mistakes
As those old try-hard artists
Put on tracksuits, act young
Out of fear of losing their crowd
Scrape for clicks, switch teams
Don't look at me if I run into you at catering
You could take a slap or worse
A jab in one of my rhymes
I started at the same age as Mozart
So stand up, shake my hand
I'm here to shatter hypocrisy
Spit my pain on the paper
They make posts full of morals
With coke on the keyboard
They act like stars, I swear
They do weeks under 2000
They'll say it was better before
Like your dad when he talks about mom
Like when I was rapping in front of 8 Mile
Not knowing I'd end up diamond-certified
I'm gonna start spitting again
Leave your email in the comments
No, but what's the problem
That we sell more records
But tell me, what's the problem
That we've got more cash, we've got more fans
24 years old, they compare me
To rappers over 30
In 3 I toured France four times
Of course we've changed, success softens the voice
About the Victoires de la Musique
Oli Benjamin Button, my path's reversed
I'll end my career at the age they broke through
It's Flo, he told me to be insolent
Sh*t I don't even like this, f*ck