Vocals: Achille Bambou
Drums: Nate
Bass: Nick Van Axl
DJ: Dr. Claw
Verse 1
Don't ask me for a handout
As we speak kids are dyin in Sierra Leone
My life isn't Al Capone's
I won't get on the mic and tell you I'm Don Corleone
My peeps and I are all broke
And if it's my destiny to die broke
I don't sweat it, there are other ways and other schemes
What else could I say, I'm trying to get into Heaven
I'll choose Intellect over material goods anyday but it would be nice to have money like the Saudis.
Chillin' in a royal suite at the Ritz
I'm reflective, I only find peace in my lyrics
Corrosive rhyme style
I'm trying to be positive but the world gets on my nerves
I'm out breath and on earth it's smells like Hell
One Half of the world is trying hustle you while the other half is trying to smoke you out.
(Coughs)
C'mon man, stop smoking!!!!!!
(Chorus)
Listen kid, if you want do smack, puff weed, inhale and snort
But don't be naïve, politicians, your teachers, your parents and even cops
They all like the same thing, they all take hits from the same spliff
Verse 2
Back in the days it wasn't all about (gunshots)
We settled things with slingshots
You acted brand new and we'd make eat dust
It was the time I was young and proud
(Jeff singing: Back in the days when I was young I'm not a kid anymore but somedays I sit and wish I was a kid again)
Today, tech-9's and lawsuits replaced fist fights
Punk-ass kids all wanna be drug-lords
They're just pawns who wanna be bosses
I'm sick of rap, the industry is saturated with gangstas wanna be MC'S and Mc's wanna be gangstas:
"the robbery expert, the cash is over here, count this money and if grandpa acts up, I'll put 2 in his cabbage."
"I've got more guns than the Mafia, take 2 steps back 'cuz I spit when I talk
Pepe Capone is on the Mic, I don't fuck around."
Hey man, take 2 steps back, you're spitting on my clothes
Gangsta-rap is dead, who do you think you are? Joe Pepsi?
These knuckleheads think they're hardcore despite their good upbringing.
The're not really bad, they just need a hug and some compliments.
You're pretty, You're the flyest!!!!!!!!
(Chorus)
Verse 3
As a schoolboy I was receptive to my teachers' lessons
I then grew up and realized they were all dumb and full of shit
How can they teach me when they put their eggs in the same basket?
I did a lot of stupid things but life isn't all black and white
Things aren't so simple
There are so many gray areas
I see black clouds in a white world under a blue sky
No, I guess life isn't a soap opera
Everything isn't rosy
Fuck the rosy life, I 'm seeing red
I'm only happy when things burn and blow up (explosion)
I'm country for life, baby, I spit on the pavement and clean my hands on my pants
Bambou represents the third and the fourth world.
Unshaved and nappy hair, I'll never change my style
So you do what you wanna do... I don't give a damn
Chorus

Instrumental

Poetry by Phillip Campbell, Music by Oranj Mechanik

FreeFlow
Vocals: Achille Bambou and Fornati
DJ: Dr. Claw
Achille Bambou: Check out this freestyle
Live and Direct from Colorado
All African no American next to my Afro
Shoot-outs are common and kinder garden teachers need bulletproof vests
But you need a shrink if you think that life is a Swarzenneger flick
In which you slove your problems with uzi-s and 12 gauges
See me? I'm on survival mode, I'm twenty-something and I love life
I ain't trying to end up like Biggie "Get Money Fuck Bitches"
But if you die before your time
Where will your bitches be? With me!
Oranj Mechanik is my familia
I trip without sensimillia
On the mike I'm a dictator like Stalin
control the flow like Castro controls the news in Cuba
I don't claim to be a rap-prophet simply an aspostle
cuz I know I rhyme better than Him, Him or the other cat
Brace yourself for the Crash-test
Even 5 pounds of weed aren't gonna relieve your stress
Eh yo!DJ, switch speeds but keep the finess
This sound you bump in your ride isn・t Busta Flex
It's my rimes you listen to religiously like mass
When I flex on the mike the result is dangerous like sex without the latex
I get vexed like when I forget the rest of my lyrics:
I
er
Shit!!!!!!!!

Instrumental

Usual Suspect
Vocals: Achille Bambou
Drums: Nate
Bass: Nick Van Axl
DJ: Dr. Claw
Verse 1
Like Kaiser Sose Always the Usual suspect
I can't walk down the street without being hassled
Gestapo keeps following me around
"Where are you going, what are you doing? Let's see some I.D."
Nah Mr. Officer, I haven't done a thing, does melanin make a convict?
Bullshit man
Sure, I'm a bit of a kleptomaniac but the reason isn't genetic or biological
Man, my belly hurts.Sometimes I'm so hungry my stomach touches my backbone
Oatmeal makes my stomach gargle
And at night I can't sleep with all the noise
I have no dough so I'm a spectator in life
I window shop
My head is filled with schemes and underground operations
I don't wanna end up in a life of crime
But I'm so sick of washing dishes and cleaning latrines.
Chorus
Verse2
The same cat that oppress you is the same cat that gets fat while you break your back
Then accuses you of the worse crimes
From the whole in the ozone layer to cocaine deals
But not me, my bloodstream is clean.
I've got too much heart to fall for his tricks
The Killer Technique is the only substance I'm refining.
However, he'd draft me in the Foreign Legion
Send me overseas to protect his freedom
Operation "Get Behind the Darkies"...I don't think so
No way, find another pigeon to be sitting ducks
This is nothing more than another bitter rhyme
But there is nothing I can do if you don't get it.
Snow might mean a new ski season to you but to me
It's just another winter far away from home.
Chorus
Verse 3
I can't tell you we'll make it but God willing we'll put through
Success and prosperity are at arm's reach
Otherwise, How will I take care of my peeps?
How will I take care of my Mama?
We'll make it without their tariffs and their quotas
Finally get our due
You can't rely on rap to make ends meet
We can't all be superstars
They wanna see us locked up like wild beast at the San Diego Zoo
Or running after a ball like retards
What about our freedom of speech?
They don't give a Fuck
Finally, I got my ticket, tomorrow I'm flying to the Elysee (French White House)
Armed with lucky charms and a machete
I'm going to fuck shit up and ask for my money back.
Yo! Jacques Chirac, where's my mo-nay?