All of this
is to say I love you.
Airwolf!
Far'Hook!
How about a free-style, man?
On YouTube, it'll go viral.
Far'Hook from Paris City Zoo, the ghostface rapper.
Do it, man.
I pressure you, You invite me on your tracks
Once in the studio, there's no turning back
I was down and out, you didn't help out. Never got a hug
We sold drugs, went through shit made only for thugs
Wanted to kidnap a Qatari Hustlers smile when they see me
Champagne and Armani, hustlers racketing clubs
Vodka in my Cocoa Puffs Smoke weed all day, puff and puff
Homies so tough Give addicts at rehab all their stuff
Parliament, President, Government, Ram you with my pelvis
I'm Far'Hook, Arab from Paris Gonna fuck their Elvis
This is how it goes Hang the fireman with his hose
Go to bed smoking a pig Wake up feeling big
Enough with that racket!
Same thing every night!
We're fed up!
After work, we want to rest.
We're exhausted!
What's that?
No way!
Holy shit! It's Far'Hook, homies!
Can we get a picture?
Bro, you know the score. No selfies.
No pics, no selfies, nothing. I'm undercover.
You think you're Daft Punk.
Take that off.
Get the hell away, fucking bitches!
Beat it!
You serious?
You really serious?
I'll waste your ass!
Dumb albino!
- Fucking haters! - Hear?
I swear I'll waste your ass!
Kiss rap goodbye!
I'll kiss your mama goodbye.
Motherfucker!
I'll waste you! You're dead meat!
4th round KO.
Since we were kids, he trains every day.
What's up? How are you?
I'm good.
- Moroccan, I hope. - Nope.
Why Moroccan?
Russian.
- Let's do vodka shots. - Bottoms up.
Excuse me, Far'Hook.
Can I get an autograph?
Say what?
An autograph?
Far'Hook superstar!
She just likes my music.
You're real nice.
You made an impression.
Get her cell.
Do I look that lame?
Why lame? You're just shy!
- No way. - It's your problem.
Admit it. You're into her.
You're wrong.
Paris my love
Paris my love, Paris my hate
You heart is buried deep in the large ghettos
- Sphynx... - I'm ready.
... don't remember
Ashamed of your children
Yet they call you fairest city of all
Nothing doing. I won't wuss out.
If they want war, Bilal, it's war.
Sure, but think twice. His bro Lutece wants you dead.
I'll call and see if my guys can fix things.
In 2 weeks you have the concert in Marseille.
Okay? Drop off the radar.
And do what? Play dead?
I may have an idea.
Got your license on you?
Here. Only I have the number.
Just lay low.
It'll work out.
Inch'Allah, it will.
In a few minutes, we'll be arriving in Arras.
Please remember to take all your belongings.
Next stop, Arras.
Rasputin.
I don't know him.
Excuse me.
What do you want? Coke? Heroin? Hash?
Nothing. I'm just visiting family.
You sure we never met?
No, never.
Where did I see you?
To remember your face.
Who is it?
- Hello, sir. I'm Bilal's friend. - What?
- Your driver. - Don't know Bilal.
I'm in front, number 180. But some weirdo lives here.
He never heard of you.
Okay.... Sir?
- He wants to talk. - Here.
- Dad, it's Bilal. - I don't know Bilal.
Cut the crap, Dad.
- What? - I'll make it easy.
Let him in or take the train. How's that?
Come in.
This isn't a mosque.
So?
Like I said, it's Bilal who sent me.
I'm the driver.
His mother and I named him Mathias.
Bilal...
I don't know him.
How do you know him?
He's my friend. We make music together.
He's my producer.
Oh yeah?
What kind of music?
Islamic music?
Not Islamic music.
Rap.
Careful.
I'm being careful. I'm doing my best.
We can't take that.
Come here.
Where to, sir?
Show me your license first.
It must be here.
Never got a ticket.
Ben Saïd... That's your name?
It's my license, so it's my name.
I thought you were Jewish.
Same difference.
You're all cousins.
I'm French, sir.
If that's what you think.
Pig man!
Motherfucker!
You better shift.
You'll strip the gears.
I need this van for work.
It's been through a lot.
Good evening, sir.
I reserved 2 rooms. Desmoulins.
Desmoulins, yes.
Exactly.
One night.
Can I ask for your ID?
Hello, sir.
Thank you.
Sorry, Mr. Ben Saïd,
I don't have a reservation for you.
He's replacing my son Mathias.
Perfect.
It's Bilal.
How are you? What up?
Baby's on the starting block.
Hamdul'lah.
Sphinx and Lutece are on your tail.
You know he rapped? He's a rapper!
That Sphinx?
That two-bit Michael Jackson raps?
That Albino hobo?
He's Lutece's little brother. He wants to kill me.
All this for a selfie?
And my old man?
You know him better than me. He's a pain.
I know he's a pain.
But for him, this trip is a pilgrimage.
And she left me alone with...
my despair
I'm sick,
perfectly sick
You come, I never know when
You go, I never know where
It's almost been two years
You don't care
Like to a rock,
Like to a sin,
I cling
to you
I'm tired
I'm exhausted,
pretending to be happy when they're here
I drink every night
Every whiskey
tastes the same to me
And every boat carries your flag
I don't know where to go, you're everywhere
I'm sick,
completely sick
I pour my blood into your body
And I'm like a dead bird
when you sleep
I'm sick...
You know Serge Lama?
Since when do Arabs know Serge Lama?
That's not racist.
Sure you got enough?
Maybe I'll get more.
Eat what's in front of you.
If it's not enough, get more.
Where are your manners?
How does this work?
Don't touch it!
Is it a Playstation?
A crane for deliveries.
Not a Playstation, a Fishstation.
Can you move?
I'm not in the way.
We're in the middle of working.
It's forbidden.
I can see this house.
There it is.
Right here.
You and me, Vernet.
Why did you turn it off?
I was listening.
Can't I have fun after driving?
- What fun? - Don't like it?
What fun?
Even a jackhammer is easier on the ears!
It's just noise.
Noise for people like you who close their ears.
Stay ignorant.
Know what it's about? It's about discrimination, street life.
I experience discrimination where I live.
Without flinching.
I'm the minority in this country.
If you're the minority, I'll teach you to rap.
Why not convert me to Islam while you're at it?
To be hip.
Let's listen to your stuff.
Hands off!
It ate my tape.
Keep your hands off.
Find what you need?
Nice little studio.
Sphinx and I found a common ground.
What is it?
- His price? - A track.
Will you?
No choice. Best to end the clash.
Nothing too good though.
We'll talk later, inch'Allah.
My son?
Did he mention me?
Raise them, feed them, bust our guts and for what?
Are you like that with your parents?
My grandmother raised me.
Never knew my parents.
It's here.
Amazing.
It's like nothing's changed. Yet everything has.
Know painters from the 18th?
A few.
Ever hear of Vernet?
From the 18th?
Who's his crew?
His screw? What screw?
Not his screw, his crew. His posse.
The guys he hung with.
Hung with?
The guys he painted with.
I know the thugs in the 18th.
18th and 20th, they're all my pals.
They sprayed every Paris arrondissement. One by one.
Poor France.
Go and take a walk.
The steeple.
He's not all that dumb.
It's true that...
Nothing's changed, same towers, church, steeple...
Yet everything's changed.
It's beautiful here.
I feel in communion with Vernet.
Here, look.
Come have a look.
It'll put you in a good mood.
Look at this beauty.
The Corderie Royale... look.
Do you realize?
250 years ago,
Vernet...
put his easel here.
Where I am.
See the history?
Come and smell history.
Imagine all the people.
There was the port there.
The military ships, the canons.
These?
Yes, them.
They must have been under repair.
And here is...
the hemp arriving, to make cords.
The Corderie Royale, here.
They made cords for boats and ships.
Louis XV, France...
You see? Beautiful France...
Damn...
Fortified by Vauban afterwards.
Magnificent framing.
Sir?
Why are you here?
- Who are you? - Hello, ma'am.
The artist's assistant.
He's downstairs painting.
He's reproducing Vernet's paintings from 250 years ago.
I help out.
I didn't know. Repainting the room?
No.
I'll tell him I found what he needs. May I?
Serge!
Excuse me, can you please come up?
What is it?
Come on up.
- Fucking unbelievable. - Trust me!
We see more rooftops from here.
Wouldn't you prefer to work here?
Better view.
You're not wrong.
Not wrong.
It's strange.
Go and get my easel and stuff.
My book especially.
- What else? - The painting, everything!
Why is he so good?
Repainting the room now?
I'm repainting the Corderie Royale.
I'll take this room for the day.
I'll tell the front desk.
He was on scaffolding, for sure.
Where is he?
What the hell?
Farouk!
When you see foreigners arriving in France...
Thanks.
I want to help the French first.
I can't afford their hotels.
I pay my taxes...
Seriously, your radio is full of shit.
Hear what they're up to?
Elections are soon.
They want to freak people out.
So they become racist.
Think people need the radio to become racist?
Don't you think
thugs and radical Islamists do enough?
Who's fault is that?
We're not considered French.
Either we shut up
or become stand-up comics or soccer players.
You know what we are.
Second-class citizens.
Soccer players wear the flag but won't salute it.
They're right.
Take the money and run.
Hey, Bilal, what's up?
I'm going stir-crazy.
Aren't they gorgeous?
Got a girlfriend?
Taste these mussels.
What's her name?
No name.
You won't tell me?
She has no name, none at all.
Want some?
I don't drink wine.
Because of your religion?
I don't like it.
An Algerian at work, great guy...
He can tell the year from tasting it.
An expert.
A master. Unbelievable.
He never went pro.
They don't want darkies teaching oenology to the customers.
He told me
Arabs like to drink but don't know how to.
"King regains his throne".
King doesn't look smart.
You're just jealous.
I know it.
You wish you were black
and a rapper.
I have way too much vocabulary.
"Yo man, bang-bang, suck my dick".
Nothing to write home about.
Hardly revolutionary.
You're full of clichés.
I listen to rap and never heard
"Yo, man, bang-bang, suck my dick".
I hear that.
I listen, I watch...
I never heard that.
Fuck you, motherfucker!
I'm king of the hood!
Fuck you guys who fuck with my mama!
Come suck my dick.
You're gonna love sucking my dick!
Wonderful.
I'd like to see your revolutionary side.
Show me Serge Guevara.
- Revolutionary rap? - Show me.
I'll show you revolutionary rap.
- Big time. - Go on.
Come, children of the Fatherland The day of glory is here
Against us, tyranny
Raises its bloody flag!
Do you hear in the countryside the roar of ferocious soldiers
charging at us
killing our women and children?
To arms, citizens!
To arms!
He wanted his mom to cook hallal
and me to stop eating pork.
He was ashamed of us.
I was probably a bit hard on him.
His mom wanted him to graduate. He chose rap.
I kicked him out. Isn't it normal?
Then they converted him.
I couldn't swallow that.
I reached out after his mom died.
I did it for her.
He promised her to make this trip with me.
Broken promise.
Hand me that plane.
No airplane here.
No, the plane.
That's not a plane.
The red thing.
This?
You use it to cut.
It shaves the wood.
Want to try?
Go on.
Right here.
No reason to force it. Nice and gentle.
Firmly.
Careful not to shave your hand.
Let yourself go...
Nice and smooth.
More firmly.
Take your hand.
Have you ever worked?
In a Chinese restaurant.
A hallal Chinese restaurant.
Try to center it better.
But not so close.
Go on.
Good job!
How do you get by?
I manage.
Take another one.
Very good.
They're like magnets.
They are.
But here instead.
You're a dealer, right?
Hurt yourself?
Banged yourself.
Your nail may turn black.
It's like they fortified the place
with chunks of pork.
It must keep Arabs out.
We should do it at the borders.
Less chance of being invaded.
People fleeing poverty and war
can be stopped with ham?
We fucked things up for them.
Now we regret their bling-bling dictators.
It's the crusades all over.
Imagine tomorrow we go to war against Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia,
wherever you're from...
Whose side would you take?
Why do you have to always, always bring everything
back to my roots.
How about you?
When Germany invaded France,
what side were you on?
The best part.
You can't eat that.
What is that stuff?
It's cheese, not stuff.
Straight from the farm.
Eat.
It's good for you.
I just want to show it to my homies.
Alien poop!
It stinks too.
It's not the cheese. It's me who farted.
They sing well.
It's Basque.
You understand?
They pass it down
from generation to generation.
It's a culture.
But they're French?
It's Basque.
A language unto itself.
Another language in France?
I couldn't talk. I was busy.
- What up? - The albino won't give up.
I gave him a track but he keeps mooching.
They know you open the show.
In 3 days you get to Marseille.
Beware, they're onto you. Lay low.
How do I lay low? You hear?
Against the wall.
What's that dart?
You don't answer?
I didn't hear.
- Why did you run? - I didn't!
What you carrying?
Let's see your ID.
Your name?
Like it says.
Farouk Ben Saïd?
From Paris?
- Where? - Just Paris.
- Why come here? - For seashells.
Not for hashish?
Why not ask me for my ID?
Stay away, okay?
Butt out.
He's not a terrorist. I know him.
Don't touch me!
You want to go to jail?
Stop moving!
Thanks.
I really mean it.
First time a white guy stood up for me.
First time I help an Arab.
How about you?
Why did you get busted?
To tell you not to get locked up.
I set fire to a factory that exploited us.
From one day to the next they fired us all.
Without an explanation.
Everything went up in smoke.
I regret nothing, understand?
I should have gotten a medal.
You okay?
My cellmate was a big-time forger.
A genius.
He taught me to dabble with paint.
Behind bars I learned about knives, brushes, colors.
To understand...
perspectives.
And Vernet?
What makes him
different from other painters?
Vernet...
Vernet's talent was to paint the sea
in all its splendor.
To understand it.
To sublimate it.
Even fixed on his canvases,
the sea gives you the impression
the movement is still underway.
To paint every French port it took him 10 years.
Takes me 2 weeks.
Why did he paint them all?
It was Louis XV
who commissioned him.
A royal commission is nothing to sneeze at.
How about you?
You weren't commissioned.
So why go and paint every port?
Should I paint every "pork" instead? Just kidding!
Me?
Why do I paint ports?
It's a promise I made my wife.
And I like to keep my promises.
You writing your will?
It's a poem.
Often for fun, men on ships
catch an albatross,
great birds of the sea,
which indolently accompany them on their trips
as their vessels advance dangerously.
Once aboard, its flight now stopped,
the azure prince
is clumsy, ashamed,
great white wings pitifully dropped
like oars at his side, maimed.
The winged traveler
awkward and weak,
so noble before,
is now comic, a freak.
One of the men teases his beak,
another imitates his scared shriek.
The poet, winged pharaoh,
haunts the storm and mocks the arrow.
Exiled, grounded,
amid nasty talking,
his gigantic wings
stop him from walking.
Baudelaire. The Albatross.
From here... all the way to here.
It all must be replaced.
Because it was over-revved.
I said to shift gears.
Scrap metal.
You leave it in 4th for hours on end.
See any oil?
I see everything. It's depressing as it is.
Nothing to do?
- The junkyard needs this. - Is the station far?
Depends what you call far.
Can I have my money?
I forgot about that.
I didn't.
Going far?
To Sète.
Oh wow...
Once the rain stops...
we'll take this road.
We'll hitch.
Hitch? Look at us. No one will take us.
Can't you see? There are only tractors here.
Don't you worry.
Put your thumb out. Trust me.
Like this.
If you do it like an amateur, it'll never work.
Higher! Are you jerking off a chimpanzee?
What's this?
Start over.
Cool it. Stop acting like a slave-owner.
- We have no vehicle! - I know.
We're both even now.
It's every man for himself now.
Beat it! Go on, beat it!
You take advantage!
You broke my truck!
You ruined it by driving like a Bedouin!
I shouldn't have let you drive!
You vandals can't be trusted!
Your son was right.
Say it to my face if you're a man!
Come back!
Farouk!
Come here if you're a man!
Think I'm scared of you?
I came out of respect for your son
and pity for you!
Look at you. Are you France?
France doesn't want you.
Know what?
You're like the poor workers. Like the Arabs you insult.
Know why you hate them?
Because you're the same!
I hear you're going to Sète. Want a ride?
It's up to you.
Come, she'll drop us off.
We're retracing Vernet's footsteps.
An 18th-century painter,
commissioned by Louis XIV.
Louis XV.
The commission.
Louis XV, same thing.
What counts is Vernet did seascapes.
He painted 10 ports.
We've already done 5.
I don't know painting. You'll find me ignorant.
Not at all.
What's this?
I see little fish, test tubes...
Are you in "CSI: Sea World"?
You keep the ocean clean?
Yeah, sort of.
We protect nature from man.
Nowadays everything is polluted.
There's the sky,
the earth, the sea,
the air, food...
Our minds too.
Especially our minds.
Why are you here?
I gave her my room.
So I end up in bed with Mr. Generous?
That Maude is pretty hot.
I can't think of her or I'll get horny.
I think she's into you.
We could have a threesome.
Stop it. That's not my thing.
You act like Casanova and end up sleeping with me.
You keep me talking.
You get me thirsty as hell...
What do you want?
Gin, cognac...
Sorry...
Did I wake you?
Can I...
sleep in your van?
You have no room?
Yeah but...
it's occupied.
Come in.
You and your brother are nomads.
He lives in Marseille. We have Viking blood.
Really? Me too.
Berbers are Vikings.
We may be from the same tribe.
That explains it.
Want to try?
Hold on. I'll help you.
Coming out of hell I came upon an angel
I know she knows what I'm thinking
My heart, my mind everything is exploding
Prettiest stop on my Tour de France
You're on my mind, can't hide a thing
Heart's swelling Ribs breaking
Just spotted a star named Maude
Will catch her for sure before sunrise
Hello, Far'Hook.
I set back off for Marseille.
Your nomad...
Call me.
I tried out that new store.
- Price buster? - I brought a cell.
You're nuts.
He gave it back busted.
- Bust his face? - Busted screen.
Is it okay?
How much?
6?
I just have a 10.
Got any change?
- How much? - 4.
I don't need this.
What do I do with it?
Throw it away.
You don't got sea legs.
Enjoy the scenery. 3 hours to Marseille.
Thanks, Captain Haddock. I'll end up a Filet-o-Fish.
My stomach is emptied.
Bags down to here.
You emptied more than your stomach.
Get a good night's sleep?
Give me a break.
Enough.
If I die before...
A little gift.
My good deed.
- Here. - Nice gift.
You're good.
- What about the song? - Bedtime!
No, let's sing it.
The song! The song!
But afterwards, you go to bed.
He'll go to bed.
You'll see, he won't want to. Mathias!
Tonight my little boy, my child, my love
It's raining on the house, my boy, my love
You look so much like her!
Now it's just us two
We'll play together
Now it's just us two
Or us three!
Wait!
I know lots of stories
Once upon a time...
A story of people in love...
A story of people in love
You'll see
Don't go away
Don't leave me
We'll play soldiers and you'll fall asleep
Tonight she won't be home, don't know why, can't say
I don't like winter
There is no more fire
There's nothing left to do
but to play, just us two,
alone....
You earned your first stripe.
Yo, guys!
How about a drink?
I'm thirsty.
Far'Hook from Paris?
Still clashing with Sphynx?
We're good shots here in Marseille. Kalashnikov City!
I heard you went missing.
Did you join the Marines?
Big Boy and Popeye!
I'm doing a featuring.
With Vernet.
- At tomorrow's concert? - You saw the posters.
As if Paris rappers could steal our buzz!
Are you crazy?
If I snap my fingers,
an army of rappers will come.
All I see are three guys jumping rope.
That beat isn't bad. Louder, man!
I'll show you!
Far'Hook is always cool Smokes you with his tool
Scooter in Paris, know my way Now I sail into Marseille
In the arena, I got power
I'm bigger than the Eiffel Tower
Your lady wants me to ball her Beats football here
I'm the same, full of rage Going hard, outta my cage
Those dogs diss me bad They don't even make me mad
Left the hood for the shells jellyfish, beaches, pebbles
Old man's painting all day colors, brushes and clay
I don't give a fuck
I don't give a shit
They try to ice me
They can't come close
Got nothing to lose
Got nothing to prove
Don't tell me what to do
Keep it real! What you gonna do?
Respect, bro.
That's good fucking flow, wicked sick.
- What happened? - What?
I'm not dumb. You got shot at?
No one got killed.
It's my problem.
If you walk with me, it's my problem too.
Is it over drugs?
It's not about drugs. Enough with that.
It's about jealousy.
Careful.
You used me to lay low?
Does my son know about this?
Is that why he sent you?
You needed a ride?
I gave you one.
The rest is my life.
You're not my dad.
Speak of the devil...
Deal with your own shit.
I'm revolted.
Honey, I just became a grandfather.
Your son has put me through a lot.
Her name is Noura.
Noura.
A little girl...
in a strange world.
My Noura.
I'll take care of you, my light.
My brother really wants tickets.
You can say no, but since I said I know you
he's so into it.
Is he chill?
How so?
I don't know...
Guys can go haywire over their sisters.
Why? That's ridiculous.
You Arabs have major sister trouble.
Repressing your desire makes you bitter.
So your sisters won't see guys,
you use respect as a pretext.
All you want is to rule their lives.
Relax, I never saw it that way.
I have no sister.
Analyzing stuff is good,
but this is an age-old thing. It's Scarface.
Scarface.
I'll try my best for the concert.
You coming too?
But in a burka.
This song...
is about a girl named Noura.
Know what it says?
That Noura is beautiful like the sun.
She's your granddaughter.
Don't cry, Serge!
Don't be shy. Go for it.
I can't dance.
Your name?
Me? Fatoumata.
And you?
My name is Serge.
Your eyes...
Amazing, like the sea.
They're gorgeous.
You have children?
How about you?
A son.
- What's his name? - Mathias.
I mean...
His name is Bilal.
He converted to Islam.
Know who Bilal is, in Islam?
The first muezzin.
He had a golden voice.
During the call to worship, only he was heard.
I kept up my side of the deal with your father.
And you spit in my face? Sphynx is rapping instead of me?
That wasn't the deal.
You wussed out. You lied.
You're no man.
Change your tone. I saved your life.
Rap is my life. Fuck my rap and you fuck me.
From now on, it's war.
You picked your side.
Can you see if I have any blue left?
Please.
Stage fright?
Can you give me a hand?
All this blue is exhausting.
Take my painting knife.
Why paint the sea?
I'm not painting the sea.
What then?
The past.
The opening act...
My concert.
It got cancelled.
Sphynx, the rapper I clashed with.
He's taking my place.
Your son's phone.
Hey.
From Farouk.
You expected him.
It's maktoub.
Fate.
Here's to the baby.
You know I don't drink.
Yo...
what's up?
I need some backstage passes.
Hold on, Sphynx.
Ask the concert promoters.
I'm not them, okay?
I don't need the rundown.
Call for passes. I don't have their number.
Do you read me?
He reads you all right, but...
try saying it nicer.
I have it under control.
What the fuck?
Getting a big head?
I let Far'Hook live.
Cool it or I'll waste your ass.
Take it easy.
Get lost, motherfucker!
Butt out, bitch!
You're calling me?
I'm his father.
His padre.
His old man.
His pops.
His daddy.
Open wide.
He's not here.
I want to eat spinach like Daddy.
Lots of spinach.
Like Popeye.
That's right.
- Bedtime, Popeye. - I'll draw you a picture.
You with boxing gloves.
- Come on. - Night, honey.
I want to box with you.
Good boy. But go to sleep first.
You have to relax.
- Night, Daddy. - Goodnight, sweet Mathias.
Night, honey.
Give me a kiss.
Open up, it's Farouk!
You okay?
Come in.
- You okay? - Still want to rap tonight?
What was that crap about?
I thought you were dying.
Answer me. Do you still want to rap?
You're going on stage.
It's under control.
Right, son?
It's a family reunion.
He shows up and says nothing.
You always spit on rap.
Now you're like "Still want to rap tonight?"
What the hell is going on?
It's like father, like son, right?
Like father, like son!
Are you trying to make me crazy?
Let's wipe the slate clean.
Sphynx is KO. He won't go on stage.
It's over for him. We're out of trouble.
If you're ready, the time is now.
Love letter, Cupid
Shot down
Old working man
Yo, Foce...
How you doing, Marseille?
I can't hear you!
Drop the beat, Bilal.
I spoke of you as an enemy Never as an ally
We can never be friends I'm the pariah
If I lived in your hood I'd have robbed you quick
But you're dirt poor Don't even own a toothpick
Your skin is white as snow But you're a working man
The France you claim Has forgotten you
Come on, smile I got news for you
Nothing romantic Cupid is sick
For the children of the Fatherland
The day of glory has arrived!
No more tyranny
For our children of the Fatherland Broken-heart on a breakbeat
First car, last train Is it too late for an apology?
A liftetime spent in the hood
Dreaming about becoming an icon
I'm your child but I feel left out Because I don't eat bacon
You're surprised I know our poets and all their subtlety
You see in me nothing but hate, fear, stupidity
Word, we're no different, just separated
But I stay hopeful No one will take this away
Can you imagine what we think
With our boys in the hood?
Born and raised in France
So much more than just an ID
Poor thing!
Talk and you'll be all over the internet
Can you give this to your son Bilal?
It's my mixtape.
You're the only guy I know in showbiz.
I rap too and I'd like to...
make a name for myself.
Inch'Allah.
I'll try.
Thanks.
Inch'Allah.
Subtitles (dial) : Andrew Litvack Subtitles (lyrics): Maboula Soumahoro
Subtitling: Eclair Media