Lyrics:
She is not the picture on the magazine
She's the woman just behind you at the
checkout stand
She may appear to be common but she
mystifies
In all
chien
Tirée d'un magazine
C'est tout petit, chez la mère à Titi
Mais y a tout ce que je te dis
Cette femme là, si tu la connais pas
T'y crois pas,
Demande pour nous à Montréal et tu vas penser qu'c'est New-York
Mes petits bougent différemment ils ont des taz avec la mort
Tu dis qu'la rue
of sweetness, cherry pie
Fuck your songs, I'm born to lead the fight
This new born, will surely testify
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
I promise to abide
a long way
Tarzan swinging with the pendulum
A nigga came a long way a long way
Squatter camp but we feeling like an animal
A leader of the new school
I
One, two, one, two, three, four
I met you, girl, you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news
You've been awful,
déprimantes, les mots en ave
Cave, rave, batcave, new wave, sois brave
Je te dis pas quand ils dansent
Ça swingue dur (c'est une vraie souffrance!)
Soyons
Take a look around me
Taking pages from a magazine
Been looking for the answers
Ever since we were seventeen
You know the truth can be a weapon
I ran into you last night at our favourite bar
I didn't even have to ask you how you are
'Cause I've seen all the pictures of your brand new life
lookin' like I'm joggin' (yeah)
Got a new crib, fuck up my conscience
Send shots, send shots, get discarded
Deadtalk, deadtalk, deadtalks, yeah (yeah)
my bones
[?] nothing [?]
It's my dignity you want
Magazine make me believe I would die for ya, die for ya
But it also told me things like, who
the park I'm involved
I'm the king of New York when it comes to these bars
I said rhymes, cash, the weed, cars
Coney Island mayor, hood superstar
You
guessing
Lazy chicks have energy to party don't feel sorry
When they open up their wallet and it's empty
Young king still broke put it in a magazine
of booze to choose,
Drugs to use, money to lose
You don't need to educate yourself on the truth,
That's already done
On the evening news
Born to lead,
resemble hopelessness
Grant us peace of mind, lend us security
With every magazine telling you, how you are supposed to live
No wonder so many people try
'em know
Write it in magazines, in the papers
Put it all over the news, let 'em hear it
I wanna let the world know
How I feel, how I feel, how I
She my special lady
Yea she drive me crazy
So I drive her too
In that new Mercedes
Any bag you ever wanted
Yea you got it baby
Shoppin'
chien
Tirée d'un magazine
C'est tout p'tit chez la mère à Titi
Mais y'a tout ce que j'te dis
C'te femme-là, si tu la connais pas
T'y crois pas, t'y
the honies, the kind from the magazines
Small waist, big - right!... biggest ones you've ever seen
The good life (good life), one day that's what I'll be
the tricks that you used on me,
You're reading all them high-fashion magazines,
The clothes you're wearing, girl, they're causing public scenes.
I said,
the first time I feel that I'm free
I write you a song on the radio
I want them to know that I'll die for you
Chorus
I'll write you a poem in the magazine
the magazines, maybe it the next page
Lotteries, fast food, bad news, road rage
Maybe it the unions, big business
Maybe it's the kkk and the skinheads
Maybe
These are Los Angeles Times
She is black and white
She is New York Times
With all its torn up streets
In a fashion magazine
Beautiful
if they from outta town or if they lost over there,
But homie this New York over here, get Off'd over here,
No workers the boss over here, we don't go
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