Destins croisés - La Boussole

C’est le genre de type qui aimait déconner

Avec ses potes, devant les meufs sort son bluff

Aime bien jouer les gros bonnets

Il les embobinait, en plus de ça mythonait

Si il faut promet la lune pour les cartonner

Dès qu’elles veulent moyenner, pas de tel-hô mais

C’est la cave, d’toute manière du prix des 'tasses tu seras couronné

À la baraque joue l’daron pour mieux sanctionner

Sa sœur espionnée, bastonnée et puis cloisonnée

Si il pouvait wAllah elle serait emprisonnée

Disproportionné, j’demande à Dieu de le pardonner

Un soir dans le hall un d’ses potes lui a téléphoné

Y’a du plan à l’hôtel, une meuf qui se fait tourner

On a dit non, y’avait moi, Ibrahim et Coné

«Bande de bouffons» voilà l’genre de discours qu’il tenait

Arrive sur place, baisse son froc, commence à donner

Puis au premier cri c’est sa voix qu’il reconnait

Avec sa sœur nez à nez, il a pris le chemin erroné

Pète un câble et c’est le seum qui vient dominer

Tue sa sœur de ses mains, on a pas pu le raisonner

Le soir même sur sa tempe son Glock a détonné

On était partis pour s’aimer d’un amour pour 6 vies

Amoureux depuis l'école, étaient Yvan et Sylvie

Rien d’ombrageux au-dessus de leur tête

Un mariage heureux célébré par le prêtre

Yvan est si bon que Sylvie en fait sa vie

Une image de bonheur que le monde entier envie

Mais à l’origine du proverbe «Gentil n’a qu’un œil»

Il y a Yvan, sa bouteille et son fauteuil

En effet, Yvan est plus que violent

Quand il abuse de la boisson son amour devient brûlant

Un alcoolisme inavoué subit par ses proches

Qui lui coûtera son boulot et le creux de ses poches

Sylvie peu confiante lui annonce qu’il sera père

D’un garçon qu’ils appelleront comme le père

Yvan est aux anges et pour fêter rempli son verre

De sa réaction c’est sa femme qu’il perd

Voilà 10 ans que Sylvie vit isolée

Avec petit Yvan, le fils d’un mari désolé

Et ils alternent le garde, se comportent en bons parents

Petit Yvan n’a pas de problèmes apparents

Mais il sait très bien qu’en son père loup sommeil

Les cicatrices de sa mère par les tessons de bouteilles

Ces derniers temps Yvan et Sylvie se querellent

Chez qui ira petit Yvan le soir de Noël

L’enfant veut la mère mais le père se fout de la mère

Il lui frappe le visage et l’histoire dégénère

«Tu m’as volé mon fils durant 10 ans, ce soir il est à moi que tu le veuilles

ou non»

Il la frappe et le sang sort de sa bouche

Sylvie perds connaissance et sur le sol se couche

Mais petit Yvan a le cœur rempli de haine

Il recharge son fusil et abat son paternel

Lui (lui) c’est un jeune beur (jeune beur) issu d’un quartier sensible

Elle (elle) d’un autre genre, d’un autre lieu bien plus paisible

Lui (lui) n’a plus d'école, n’a pas de goal, n’a plus qu’le vide

Elle (elle) n’a pas de potes mais a les poches pleines de liquide

Lui (lui) vit en famille dans un 2 pièces à 6

Elle (elle) seulement à 3 dans une immense villa de riche

Lui trime, elle pas, lui crie, elle pas, lui fuit, elle pas, lui ci, elle ça

Lui (lui) fait des erreurs mais elle aussi

Mais à ce jour lui a payé ses torts, elle récidivera à vie

Lui (lui) se fait du souci pour sa mère, elle en fait aussi mais à la sienne

Le pire c’est qu’il s’avère que

Lui (lui) souhaite être comme elle, elle de n'être pas comme lui

Lui sait très bien que elle, elle se fiche bien de lui

Lui (lui) peine encore pour s’intégrer

Elle (elle) sniffe des rails qu’elle se paie pour se désintégrer

Lui (lui) a des rêves mais elle (elle) les réalise

Lui (lui) c’est sa souffrance qu’il traîne, elle ses sous qu’elle trie

Lui (lui) persévère quand elle (elle) se démotive

Lui (lui) perd ses vers pendant que elle se dit que

Lui (lui) et elle (elle) n’ont pas les mêmes vies

Lui (lui) les flics le pistent, elle le fisc l’ennui

Lui (lui) et elle (elle) se verront même pas parce que

Lui (lui) et elle ont un destin qui ne se croisent pas

He's the kind of guy who liked to mess around

With his friends, in front of the girls comes out his bluff

Likes to play the big shots

He bamboozled them, on top of that mythonized

If you have to promise the moon to hit them

As soon as they want to average, no such-ho but

This is the cellar, anyway of the price of 'cups you will be crowned

At the barrack plays the daron to better punish

His sister spied, beaten and then locked up

If he could wAllah she would be imprisoned

Disproportionate, I ask God to forgive him

One evening in the lobby one of his friends called him

There's a plan at the hotel, a girl who is being turned

We said no, there was me, Ibrahim and Coné

"Band of buffoons" that's the kind of speech he held

Get there, drop her pants, start giving

Then at the first cry it's her voice that he recognizes

With his sister face to face, he took the wrong path

Go crazy and it's the seum that comes to dominate

Kill his sister with his hands, we couldn't reason with him

That same evening on his temple his Glock went off

We left to love each other with a love for 6 lives

In love since school, were Yvan and Sylvie

Nothing Shady Above Their Heads

A happy marriage celebrated by the priest

Yvan is so good that Sylvie makes a living out of it

An image of happiness that the whole world envies

But the origin of the proverb "Gentile has only one eye"

There's Yvan, his bottle and his armchair

Indeed, Yvan is more than violent

When he abuses the drink his love gets hot

An unacknowledged alcoholism suffered by his relatives

Which will cost him his job and the hollow of his pockets

Sylvie, not very confident, announces to him that he will be a father

Of a boy they will call after the father

Yvan is in heaven and to celebrate filled his glass

From his reaction it is his wife that he loses

Sylvie has been living in isolation for 10 years

With little Yvan, the son of a sorry husband

And they take turns guarding, behaving like good parents

Petit Yvan has no apparent problems

But he knows very well that in his wolf father sleeps

Her mother's scars from broken bottles

Lately Yvan and Sylvie have been quarreling

Where will little Yvan go on Christmas Eve

The child wants the mother but the father doesn't care about the mother

He punches her in the face and the story escalates

"You stole my son from me for 10 years, tonight he's mine if you want him

or not"

He hits her and blood comes out of her mouth

Sylvie loses consciousness and on the ground lies down

But little Yvan has a heart full of hate

He reloads his gun and shoots his father

He (him) is a young beur (young beur) from a sensitive neighborhood

She (she) of another kind, from another much more peaceful place

He (him) no longer has a school, has no goal, only has emptiness

She (she) has no friends but has pockets full of cash

He (him) lives with his family in a 2-room apartment for 6

She (she) only 3 in a huge villa of rich

He toils, she doesn't, shouts at him, she doesn't, runs away from him, she doesn't, he this, she that

He (him) makes mistakes but so does she

But so far paid her for her wrongs, she will reoffend for life

He (him) worries about his mother, she does too, but about his

The worst part is that it turns out

He (him) wishes to be like her, she not to be like him

He knows very well that she, she doesn't care about him

He (him) is still struggling to fit in

She (she) sniffs rails that she pays herself to disintegrate

He (he) has dreams but she (she) makes them come true

Him (him) it's his suffering that he drags, she her pennies that she sorts

He (her) perseveres when she (she) becomes demotivated

He (him) loses his verses while she thinks that

He (him) and she (her) don't have the same lives

He (him) the cops track him, she the taxman boredom

He (him) and she (she) won't even see each other because

He (he) and she have a destiny that does not intersect