Description
The words beat out a rhythm like city stairs under sneakers - fast, sharp, without gloss. It smells of asphalt, tired anger, and survival here, where every movement is not a gesture but a strategy, and every word is armor. Paranoia and adrenaline seep between the lines: paper or walls, money or death, asso, barreau, barrage...
The music turns this into not just a stream of bravado, but a kind of street mantra. Behind the syllable breaks and repetitions, you can hear not only hip-hop, but also a spell against chaos - to keep breathing, even when “22 poumons” is not enough. The result is a dirty, heavy soundtrack to a life that doesn't wait for someone to explain the rules.
Lyrics and translation
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