Текст песни France Rap - Les rues de Paris

Senegal 1978 departure from my country is more like an escape,
I had a presentiment of victory and a French flag,
I determine the direction of my way,
African, one who left his country,
Southern Hemisphere, the Tropic of Cancer,
Headed to the golden city of the north,
Leaving the family, but his family left his heart.

Paris, the French capital,
I landed on the most beautiful city in the world,
It is a city fatties and crowded homes
Heirlooms and a removable housing,
And according to my calculations, in August I left him,
But my life - walking on the edge of the cliff,
I would like to come to my family,
My wife, daughter and son - their future needs to be changed,
It took three long years - and now,
I see the relief on their faces,
After a long flight with a stopover in Spain,
Finally the time has come to heal the wounds,
Most deep wounds, those in the heart.

The children cry at night in bed,
What is behind a cardboard wall,
Barely restraining cold outside,
My first wife - a maid in a hotel,
The second one was the malyarsha to a sweet,
Spring evening,
When she said, & quot; Now wriggle itself & quot ;,
Meanwhile, the family of the completion,
Born the second son and a daughter, the joy of my heart,
But as you know, the good news often accompany poor:
I was left without shelter, with suitcases in the middle of a huge city.
I went back to the beginning,
For overnight camps on the platform,
Bedroom became the station roof
This mud - opening for homeless hermit
Even when there is no place to dry clothes,
France, my new home, far from his native city,
Once again, I felt a longing,
Looking into the wrinkled face fellow sufferers,
Obviously, human rights do not apply to the black - no men or women.
But one day about me braked bus
From it came a man exempt from these rules,
His T-shirt was written Emmaus,
And I found a temporary shelter,
Vinsen Orёl - this street that we were liberated,
Boulevard in the thirteenth district.
He became my refuge, it is the quarter where there was peace.
The house seemed strong, but the tree rassohlos,
The fire would have destroyed him in one moment,
I still moved with his family: his wife, young children, and a thousand problems.
I thought for a long time already not stay here,
My last chance: I'm heading to the mayor of Paris,
View ads with hope,
But the answer to any request is the same:
& Quot; The apartment is rented, we will call you back & quot ;,
Even if I paid for three months in advance,
In fact, to understand the system, it took 15 years,
15 years and mountains of letters to the ministry, unanswered letters,
Our wanderings were delayed, it is too much.
Too, when children bite rats
When you live in the slums, and the terms of dirty people,
It is believed that this is sufficient for such
Like me, for our race,
Here it is, another France, a country smelly streets,
Dust that hide under the threshold.
Last drop - a layer of lead paint, so that their socialism
When suffering from lead poisoning our children.
I thought, coming back from Dakar,
What is the European dream has become a nightmare.

- An excerpt from the television magazine France 2 (children, we are now hearing, died in the fire, peace be upon them)
- & Quot; However, in a few weeks, she says, her six sons rat bite at night & quot;
- (Voice of her son), she climbed up here, then climbed here, then she jumped and bit me ...
- & Quot; But now the people are worried about their safety and fear of another fire & quot;

Hour-deserved rest,
After a hard day, I sit at the TV,
And I hear the cries: & quot; Dad !! DAD !! & quot; - Who is screaming ?,
You had to sleep,
I'm heading for the door to another room,
Which serves as a game room and bedroom for the children,
It is covered by flames, big like mountains,
They hate destroy corridor and stairs on fire.
Fire sizzling monster devouring everything in its path,
It incinerates the house floor by floor.
One box of matches has destroyed a six-story building.
This deadly og