Demain c'est loin [English translation]

The ink flows, the blood spills

The blotting paper

Soaks up emotion, bagful of images in my memory

I talk about what my people live and what I see

Men drowning in despair, drifting away

Men who destroy each other for F20,000 worth of hash

I’m talking 'bout my daily life, listen close, my words won’t make you laugh

Laugh, smile, some have lost theirs, thinking 'bout Momo

Who told me, “See you later;” never to be seen again

Courting the Devil to escape the struggle, you made it, brother!

But it’s still poverty for those pushing on behind you

Pushing, growing in the middle of a concrete field

Growing up in a parking lot, watching the big brothers bring home the cash

Poverty makes you think, within a blink of an eye,

We cut it, we press it, we chop it up, we bag it up, we sell it

Non-stop, we reap the crack money

Yeah, that’s life and don’t talk 'bout welfare here, here

Here, everyone dreams of a GTI Golf and a Tacchini tracksuit

Picking up women like Manny

From Scarface, I enjoyed watching it like everyone else

Thank God I grew up, I’m smarter, he just dies at the end

The end, the hunger, the hunger justifies the means: four, five little misdeeds

And we hold on ‘til tomorrow, then we’ll see what happens

We walk in the shadow of Evil from dusk 'til dawn

Lurking in a corner, knife in hand, outlaws on dirt paths

Path, path, there aren’t two to become a god

Pounded on like an anvil, don’t look down, the envious always want a slice

One way in, two ways out, three-quarter length leather jacket

Succeed, fade, become a memory

Memories of being so young, an entire phonebook

Of guys wiped off the map like a blackboard, pow!

Darkness

Believe in who? In what? These guys are all mirrors

Going in the same direction, trying to fill up their drawers

Drawer, you live your life in one, you end up in one before you go to Hell

On Earth, we build our own Heaven

Fiction, the delusion is too strong, get out some weed

Reality hits too hard, need to escape

Escape, escape, use your imagination, here all is gray

The walls, the mindsets, the rats at night

We all want to escape this prison, a needle goes around, time for action

False diversion, one day you blow your fuse

Lead, a lucky few have some in their brains

Others shoot it at each other for a fistful of cash, brothers at war

Weapons grow like weeds

The image of the gangsta spreads like gangrene sowing seeds

Seeds, seeds, seeds of delinquents, what were you hoping for? From the youngest age

They are taught that nothing makes a man except francs

From the discreet franc-tireur to the organized gang, the root turns into a field

Too big to be stopped

Arrested, unlucky on the way in, lucky on the way out

You get three months, the rumor spreads, the rep grows bigger

The steel bars scare no one anymore, that’s the routine, a common thorn

A fine sketch with Chinese ink, a figurine that every so often comes to life

Life, living for a vicious appetite for money

Night falls, no matter the weather, we roll the dice, we must play with fire

Win and lose, come back with a couple more bills

Whatever helps, no one will ask from where came your windfall

Whether you fall or not, for all or nothing, we take the chance, no big deal, cousin

In either case, we'll be fine

To live like a dog or a prince? It’s no contest

We've made our choice, grill the lamb, flaunt the jewels

Jewels, a dream, the pocket are full but the target is far away, the arrow

Ricochets, the Devil adds an ugly notch, the guys tick

Their own box, shoot for the cash, I hear the bells ring

Like sounds of the pickaxe

Digging a hole is too easy

Easy-peasy, easy as taking a cowardly rich man’s jacket, every grandma’s nightmare

And porcelain through the windshield

Clack! Razor to the purse, here comes the cash

And that's all day, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow

Tomorrow? That’s not the problem, we live day to day

We can’t waste time or we'll lose money, others will take it

Tomorrow is far away, there’s no rush, slowly but surely

We move forward while watching our asses so we can talk about the future

Future, the future won’t change a thing, the next generations

Will be worse off than us, their lives will be bleaker

Our future is the next minute, the goal: anticipate it

Predict it before you get nailed

Nailed, nailed to a bench, nothing else to do so we drink beer

We whistle at hoochies with no brothers

The walls hold us back like flypaper

Here we are, we’ll never get out, Satan holds us back with his pitchfork

Fork, like forks stacking up the risks second after second

Every incident is another stone for our slings

Against their lasers, some lose hope, many fall to the ground

The stubborn refuse a suicidal fight

Fight, fighting disbelief, the Gods watch Man head towards the wrong

Side of eternity with a firm, steady gait

Preferring to wander around down here, for he would be bored as fuck up there

Only on this side do angels sell something to smoke

Smoke, another toke, the veil has fallen

Head on the pillow, for a moment all the shit fades away

Through the window enters a scream, a man is getting mugged

A kid is getting arrested for a Cartier, handcuffed

Handcuffed, feet and fists bound by fate

Imprisoned in the dungeon, destined for the jail cell

The turf, the arena, we grew up with the games

Brave gladiators, but life is tough so we wrestle the best we can

In high-rise buildings

Misunderstandings, gangs of kids calling themselves badboys

Friction, excitement, undercover cops on patrol

Useless paranoia, foolish myths and legends

Hashish by the kilo, poets armed with pens

Stockpiles of creativity, warehouses, silos

They take off to Block 20, pack of Heineken in hand

Lighting up a big joint to forget

African princesses, teen moms, plastic bags

Full of glue, psychotic hordes of ghetto youth

The black market, squad solid as a rock

Little Dons tightly controlling their drug spots

We pop the Veuve Cliquot, crowded like Mexico City

Cemented horizons, pickpockets, drug addicts

Honest people ignored, supercops, Zorros

Politicians and journalists visiting the zoo

Respectful Muslims, humble family men

Stereos that blast my jungle music

Devastated lobbies, destroyed car wrecks

A swarm of kids coming to score freebies

Orange lights flaring, smoking chimneys

Pickup soccer games on the asphalt

Golf VR6, screeching tires

Silence broken by police sirens

Façonnable polos, tacky tracksuits

Mothers with admirable character traits

Counterfeit hashish, prison stories

Stupid divisions, piles of embers

Middle Eastern clichés, spicy food

Charming tree-inspired names for buildings in the cement forest

Midday desert, scorching sun

Nightlife during the month of Ramadan

Lack of distraction creates action

Games of dice, belote, gambling, fatal attractions

Non-stop laughter, surprise arrests

Corrupt arrondissement mayors

Treading on used needles, dreams of traveling

Car radios for a bargain, batch of ripped out stereos

Guys with no back up plans, psychopaths with no pity

Best friendships a guy could ever build

Sports talents wasting their time in vacant lots

New jokes, terrible pickup lines

Individuals who crack under the stress

No one make a move and no one gets hurt

Fumes of ether, solvents, alcohol

Brink’s trucks eyed like a jackpot

It’s not funny, the dog bites when locked in a cage

Slobbering in rage, the cage bars climb up to the second floor

Sell hash, it's wiser if you want to take out your woman

If you get caught, keep your mouth shut and there’s no drama

But school isn’t far away, neither is trouble

It starts with spanking and ends with police custody

Look at the streets, what changes? Only the seasons

You drool concrete, spit concrete, shit concrete

You’re fighting for a penny, but what does that yield?

Don’t regret the dough when the BAC knocks on the door

Tri-colored posters treat us like dirt

This isn’t Manila, okay, but the cigarettes turn to joints

Guilty or innocent, we talk cash, percentage

Eye for eye, mouth for tooth, it’s stressful

Early in the morning, the family is already outside, Kader’s gang

“Fuck you!” Shit coming out their ass, they already know how to swear

It’s not easy to talk about love, working at a factory

Beautiful hoochies break their backs in the kitchens

Politicians hammer on about renovation, it's comforting

But it’s still the same shit under a fresh layer

Of paint, dead dreams lie buried in the courtyard

At 12 years old, driving, dying, ending up like Tupac Shakur

Looking at pictures, now an adult, homie

So many friends have already died in motorcycle accidents

Win once, lose a thousand times, the future is a lottery

For that, I dedicate my raps like an ex-voto, man

Here, you’re judged on your reputation

Mess up once, and everyday they'll will piss on your doorstep

That’s the minimum tariff and watch out

The heavyweights transform the area into a stronghold

Frozen, the air becomes electric, there’s plenty of seats

Frozen concrete instead of an ice field

The kids wanna get out, but the "no"s come down like hammers

DSU grants get pumped into shitty artists

So much energy lost on unfounded prejudice

The financial decision makers' visions are full of shit

Meanwhile, dreams fall and flounder, some people rap

Rocks fly, stolen cars skid out of control

School is a shithole, fire extinguishers are emptied out in the halls

The hood becomes a hunting ground for detectives

Backs have eyes 'cause the water is growing a reef

Reap the money, we're playing dice in a dark coffin

It’s too much, guys shit on the Romeo complex

After a smoke, hotwire a car and have a rodeo

Life is rough, and if you want a little fantasy

They put rubber in the hash and still sell it to you for khams alaf

You tell me, “That's fine. It’s not too much.”

But for tcherno, when a Hamidou has nothing, it’s a lot

I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m just a bastard

Who had to celebrate my 20th birthday with three bottles of Valstar

The spot is hot tonight, who's the kingpin?

From the outset, the walls are reserved like parking spots

But who can understand when they have a full mène?

That a man at his wit's end will fight back, fueled by hate

And that you’re not born programmed to do bad things

I don’t think about tomorrow 'cause tomorrow is far away

• Artist:IAM
• Album:L'école du micro d'argent