Vocab! - Hocus Pocus, The Procussions, T-Love

Hocus Pocus in the place to be

Procussions… check it out…

One time… T-Love

J’voudrais qu’mes mots sonnent comme Check it out !

Que quand t'écoutes tu dises You know what it’s all about ou bien No doubt

Ces phases qui claquent sur basse qui t’bloquent au sol

Kickent fat, qui craquent et niquent la console (Come on !)

Ma langue a l’histoire, les racines et le sens

La leur a les stars, le fashion et le slang (No shit on me)

Putain d’accent, j’veux l’même dans mes textes

Mais quand j’rappe cain-ri, tout l’monde me dit Who’s next?

Ils me disent tous: «Le yaourt, abandonne «Alors, en scred, j’fais tourner la MPC et j’improvise Danone

Sur mon coin d’hexagone, j’examine la donne

Entre Shakespeare, Stallone, j’expire, tâtonne

Pour trouver mon truc, assumer mon langage

Même si chez moi les «R» sonnent et que eux les mâchent

On a leurs WC, leurs sandwiches et leurs chewing-gums verts

Et eux ont notre savoir-faire

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

Know what I’m asking for?

Maximum de bruit !

I’m actually asking if you see a passionate MC

I’m past masking who I be, I paid my dues

It’s like: Tout le monde dit: Yeah !

If they’re playing y’all like déjà-vu

I’m sayin', dude, they givin us the same one liners

Money, drugs, guns, honeys, thugs mining for gold, cash

Diamonds in the ears of dead soldiers

Yo, I’m holding fast to rhyming for the years they left over

Non, oui-oui, be still mon coeur

Sometimes when I be chilling I can understand a word

Or two, maybe three, good day six

But most of the time, French rhyme shines in bits

Many times it’s the point that I miss

But if I like it, I bump it but I won’t know the gist

I’ll humalong a riff mais j’sais pas c’est quoi

I never know the meaning but the feeling be raw

Yo, on the regular, not a church girl she was secular

Not about the money, somebody redirected her

I know I met her at a earlier age

But she don’t look the same way on a page

Got a brother confused and I ain’t willing to lose

You can believe me a fool and it’s cool

Cause after all, it’s music, I tell her

Je ne parle pas français

But when the rhythm is cool

It doesn’t matter if together we move, come on

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

J’leur ai piqué des mots de ci de là

Et mon champ lexical vaut pas plus d'6 dollars

J’me prends pas pour J. Dilla, loin d’là

Je reste fan, bref, j’idolâtre plein de gars (One love)

Parce que trop d’classiques me mettent presque en transe

Mais parfois j’tombe de haut quand j’en saisis le sens

On s’moque du fond tant qu’on atteint la cible

Résultat: plus de bips que de mots intelligibles:

Let’s **** that motherf***** in the ***, Pardon?

Once again?

Nan, nan, nan, passons…

J’aime ma langue natale mais j’dirai fatalement

Qu’elle a la musicalité d’un régiment allemand

Je suis né ici, pas à N.Y.C et parfois plutôt fier

Quand j’arrive à faire chanter c’foutu vocabulaire

On a leurs sodas, le best of du business de Bush fils

Et eux ont notre French kiss

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Fuck !», pas d’tes «Shit !», pas d’tes «Motherfucker !»

J’veux pas d’tes «Nigga !», pas d’tes «Bitch !», pas d’tes «Sucker !»

I like your Peace, like your Unity, like your Love

I like your Jazz, like your Soul, like your Hip-Hop

I like your Peace, like your Unity, like your Love

I like your Jazz, like your Soul, like your Hip-Hop

Hocus Pocus in the place to be

Processes…check it out…

One time… T-Love

I wish my words sound like Check it out!

That when you listen you say You know what it's all about or No doubt

These phases that slam on bass that block you on the ground

Kickent fat, cracking and fucking the console (Come on!)

My language has history, roots and meaning

Theirs got the stars, the fashion and the slang (No shit on me)

Damn accent, I want the same in my texts

But when I rap cain-ri, everyone tells me Who's next?

They all tell me: "Yoghurt, give up" So, in scred, I spin the MPC and I improvise Danone

On my corner of the hexagon, I examine the deal

Between Shakespeare, Stallone, I exhale, grope

To find my thing, assume my language

Even if at my house the "R's" ring and they chew them

We have their toilets, their sandwiches and their green chewing gum

And they have our know-how

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

Know what I'm asking for?

Maximum noise!

I'm actually asking if you see a passionate MC

I'm not masking who I be, I paid my due

It's like: Everyone says: Yeah!

If they're playing y'all like deja vu

I'm sayin', dude, they givin us the same one liners

Money, drugs, guns, honeys, thugs mining for gold, cash

Diamonds in the ears of dead soldiers

Yo, I'm holding fast to rhyming for the years they left over

No, yes-yes, be still my heart

Sometimes when I be chilling I can understand a word

Or two, maybe three, good day six

But most of the time, French rhyme shines in bits

Many times it's the point that I miss

But if I like it, I bump it but I won't know the gist

I'll humalong a riff but I don't know what it is

I never know the meaning but the feeling be raw

Yo, on the regular, not a church girl she was secular

Not about the money, somebody redirected her

I know I met her at a earlier age

But she don't look the same way on a page

Got a brother confused and I ain't willing to lose

You can believe me a fool and it's cool

Cause after all, it's music, I tell her

I do not speak French

But when the rhythm is cool

It doesn't matter if together we move, come on

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

I stole words from them here and there

And my lexical field is worth no more than six dollars

I don't take myself for J. Dilla, far from it

I remain a fan, in short, I idolize a lot of guys (One love)

Because too many classics almost put me in a trance

But sometimes I fall from above when I grasp the meaning

We don't care about the bottom as long as we hit the target

Result: more beeps than intelligible words:

Let's **** that motherf***** in the ***, sorry?

Once again?

No, no, no, let's move on...

I love my native language but I will say fatally

That she has the musicality of a German regiment

I was born here, not in N.Y.C and sometimes kinda proud

When I manage to make this damn vocabulary sing

We got their sodas, Bush Jr.'s best of business

And they have our French kiss

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

I don't want your "Fuck!", not your "Shit!", not your "Motherfucker!"

I don't want your "Nigga!", not your "Bitch!", not your "Sucker!"

I like your Peace, like your Unity, like your Love

I like your Jazz, like your Soul, like your Hip-Hop

I like your Peace, like your Unity, like your Love

I like your Jazz, like your Soul, like your Hip-Hop