More songs by Werenoi
Description
Thunder, engines, perfume and stories. Everything spins faster than the needle on a tachometer - life in ‘turbo’ mode, where feelings overtake common sense. Here, love is measured in banknotes, likes and designer bags, and sincerity in the number of filters. She wants luxury, he wants thrills, and it seems that both have long known that they are not looking for each other, but for confirmation that all this is not in vain.
But between the well-worn cynicism and glossy dreams, something alive suddenly flashes by - like a spark in an empty tank. Maybe it's just the reflection of headlights in a night-time shop window, or maybe it's that very moment when the heart still beats beneath the skin, even if it has long been encased in branded armour.
Lyrics and translation
Original
J'fais crier le moteur sur les champs.
Madame n'aime pas les gens, mais elle me dit que j'suis alléchant.
Contrôle de police, j'crois que j'vais payer de la folie.
J'ai calé les cinquante G entre ses jambes.
Je lui casse son cœur, son dos, j'lui laisse des marques.
Elle me guette dans les yeux quand j'finis la bouteille.
La zette, déjà, j'laise, j'la jette à la poubelle.
J'mets les sons en boucle, elle les connaît par cœur.
Tu veux du feu, mais je sais que t'as le briquet.
Éteins trop la lumière, les raclos vont m'piquer.
J'préfère faire des fards que ton gros fiac.
Tu connais d'ja.
Rien à foutre des raclis. Elles sont comme mon kamas.
Sur Snap et Instagram, c'est du trois fois filtré.
Madame veut tourner, tourner, tourner, tourner, tour.
Elle veut les lovés tous les jours, les jours, les jours.
Même à quatre contre cent, elle sait d'jà qu'on est d'jà. Ma gueule, tu connais d'jà.
C'est war ou n'oi.
Elle veut tourner, tourner, tourner, tourner, tour.
Elle veut les lovés tous les jours, les jours, les jours.
Même à quatre contre cent, elle sait d'jà qu'on est d'jà.
Ma gueule, tu connais d'jà.
C'est war ou n'oi.
Elle veut le violet, le jaune, le vert, elle laisse que les centimes.
Elle aime les sacs d'oseille, les bandits, pas les gentils.
Elle aime les balles, on balaye les chats, c'est pas les balades.
Elle a pas de sentiments, elle veut le bénef' même le dimanche.
Elle veut sa goya, elle veut plus Louis Vuitton.
Elle est partie voir ailleurs quand t'as pris huit ans.
Elle veut serrer ton poing, très vicieuse comme le diable.
Mais tu connais d'jà, elles sont comme ça. C'est minimum dix si tu veux t'asseoir à sa table. T'as le
Louboutin, Balenciaga, sac Céline.
Elle a photoshopé ses photos, ça, c'est nul.
J'aime bien son rasta, mais j'sais qu'elle est instable.
Rien à foutre des raclis. Elles sont comme mon kamas.
Sur Snap et Instagram, c'est du trois fois filtré.
C'est du trois fois filtré.
Madame veut tourner, tourner, tourner, tourner, tour.
Elle veut les lovés tous les jours, les jours, les jours.
Même à quatre contre cent, elle sait d'jà qu'on est d'jà. Ma gueule, tu connais d'jà.
C'est war ou n'oi.
Elle veut tourner, tourner, tourner, tourner, tour.
Elle veut les lovés tous les jours, les jours, les jours.
Même à quatre contre cent, elle sait d'jà qu'on est d'jà.
Ma gueule, tu connais d'jà.
C'est war ou n'oi
English translation
I make the engine scream in the fields.
Madame doesn't like people, but she tells me that I'm attractive.
Police check, I think I'm going to pay crazy.
I wedged the fifty Gs between her legs.
I break his heart, his back, I leave him marks.
She looks into my eyes when I finish the bottle.
I'm already throwing it away, I'm throwing it in the trash.
I put the sounds on a loop, she knows them by heart.
You want a fire, but I know you have the lighter.
Turn out the light too much, the scum will sting me.
I prefer to make eyeshadows than your big fiac.
You already know it.
Nothing to do with the scum. They are like my kamas.
On Snap and Instagram, it's triple filtered.
Madame wants to turn, turn, turn, turn, turn.
She wants them curled up every day, every day, every day.
Even four against a hundred, she already knows that we are already there. My face, you already know it.
It's war or nay.
She wants to turn, turn, turn, turn, turn.
She wants them curled up every day, every day, every day.
Even four against a hundred, she already knows that we are already there.
My face, you already know it.
It's war or nay.
She wants purple, yellow, green, she only leaves the cents.
She likes sorrel bags, bandits, not good guys.
She likes balls, we sweep up cats, it's not walks.
She has no feelings, she wants the benefit, even on Sundays.
She wants her Goya, she wants more Louis Vuitton.
She left to look elsewhere when you turned eight.
She wants to squeeze your fist, very vicious as the devil.
But you already know, they are like that. It's a minimum of ten if you want to sit at his table. You have the
Louboutin, Balenciaga, Céline bag.
She photoshopped her photos, that's rubbish.
I like her rasta, but I know she's unstable.
Nothing to do with the scum. They are like my kamas.
On Snap and Instagram, it's triple filtered.
It's triple filtered.
Madame wants to turn, turn, turn, turn, turn.
She wants them curled up every day, every day, every day.
Even four against a hundred, she already knows that we are already there. My face, you already know it.
It's war or nay.
She wants to turn, turn, turn, turn, turn.
She wants them curled up every day, every day, every day.
Even four against a hundred, she already knows that we are already there.
My face, you already know it.
It's war or nay