Se réapproprier la rue, envisager la ville comme un espace d’expression artistique à part entière, c’est là l’ambition de cette culture subversive qu’est le Street Art. Longtemps réprimé et proscrit, l’« Art Urbain » est aujourd’hui passé de la rue aux galeries d’art, porté par des figures emblématiques et acclamées comme Banksy, Shepard Fairey, ou encore JR. Cette playlist se fait le reflet du versant musical de cette mouvance atypique. Du Hip-Hop au Rap, en passant par la Trap ou le Trip Hop, c’est le paysage multi-culturel des Musiques Urbaines qui se dessine ici, entre flow saccadés, scratching et samples : un univers sonore foisonnant de créativité.
Sample catchy, fun & entraînant. Idéal pour les paysages urbain, le [...]Sample catchy, fun & entraînant. Idéal pour les paysages urbain, le street art & la vie quotidienne. Voix de femme samplée & rythmique.
Paroles [...] Hip-hop. Male vocale. Detroit style. BPM 98.
Everybody Wants
Lyrics by Mattic Madwreck, F.P. & Beat by Oogo
(chorus) La la la Lalalalalala La la la Lalalalalala La la la la
(Mattic's Part)
I want her in the worst way but first let me talk about her Describe the madam, cause it hit me like what's happen Walking in Le Havre She's the one I Got to have Juggling with my words Hoping that my poking cause a stabbing
Her frame, jabbing to my face open the case and see the best imprint of star elegance Relax, let me tell you something bout yourself Pass over like a passport the password is wealth.
Rich a man would be if he seen you on the regular Up inside his head, got my thoughts perpendicular Endless to your beauty cause the eyes will never lie That's a quote from the Wreckester Your shine can't hide.
(chorus)
Girl you got me singing all night long Girl you got me sanging this same song Girl you got me singing all night long Girl you got me sanging this same song
La la la That's what I want Lalalalalala La la la Lalalalalala That's what I want La la la la Get nasty with it
Heard this one whispered through the cracks in the xylophoneOlfactory sensation is of coffee and the styrofoamAs for battle raps and who's the dopestLearned to take it lightly like my mother's jew neurosisPrognosis was never be the baron of this rap shitBut you know what they say, let them wear it if the cap fitIm rocking mine with pride and style it upSlightly angled to the side, crunk, wilding on the cutScratch an accapella like a lottery ticketDug some Donald Byrd out the crate, flipped itLove to make her shake and taste her lipstickThe way she flakes the brisket, it really takes the biscuitWhen I rips it, like a Jedi knight with the force in meWalk the fine line between debauchery and sorceryMicrophone magician, construct an algorithm with precisionRhyming Wittgensteinian logician on a missionWishing upon a star..Green to the T with the caviar now check the referenceMusical allusions in the sessionsPlus youthful optimism is itself an act of reverence
Dont get no water on the gremlinsGet slaughtered like LemmingsMake 'em board up the KremlinHigh treason.. down with the regent I was harassed and fought like Harrison Fordin that one episode of South Park where he's buried in cock.Blood gushing from his orifice like sherry or port,while all of ya'll just watched like an american sport.Where are your balls? I'm tearing you alla new jap's eye. Rap fly, that is why i carry the torch.The chairman of boards; the ferryman of yachts;the baddest mothafucka that you ever heard, but that ain't your fault.If you had any idea of the mind focusthat goes into every word that I write on thispeace of paper, you couldn't breathe on the mic, homes.It's the speech Vader teaching you hitting the right tones withmy ill voice. You couldn't read me a tight poem ifyour name was Shakespeare, so retreat or rhyme pwned, bitch!On the real, you believe it's a light joke, kid?You better think again and go find a new rhyme opponent.
On fait parti de ceux qui s'rassemblent pasAucun track sans blaseAjoute un accent grave, par ici ça sent l'gazLa basse s'embrase, chut, l'agent t'palpeReste discret, la loyauté ne s'marchande pasJ'la sens glacée en y passant l'brasIci y'a trop d'gens blasés, oui en s'lassant de boireRageant du passé j'vois des gars sans foiQui jalousent les tracés, qui parlent sans voir
J'ai vu des phrasés qui s'décalent, des rires, des rides, des vies qui partentPuis des jeunes gazés qui s'débattent, qu'esquivent devant des flics qui parlentLa weed c'est médical, ici l'chagrin est délicatJ'ai la rage contre personne, puisque chacun est critiquableY'a des clochards qui te pé-pom, qui s'font démonter pour 10 ballesDes cons, des bons, des condés sombres et j'ai pas les fonds pour ti-parEsquinté des wagons, des gares, dégâts d'mes bombes avec des graf'Écarter les matons mécra, toucher d'la gonz' avec mes garsChez nous les braves gens s'tapent, mettent les bails dans l'sacAucun marchand d'sable, ouai les vaillants l'saventFaut pas s'en vanter, les enfants baventLe rap tue la jeunesse car les temps sont gravesCombien en font un fond d'commerce en s'pensant bravesA cause de toi saches que des gosses meurent en s'tranchant l'brasLes tours s'encrassent et les gens s'en tapentLes passant passent ça n'les enchante pasMoi j'ai la gueule pour leur emploi, mais pas le cœur qui va avecIci on fume, on tise, on bois, les jeunes s'consument pour faire la fêteLes journalistes j'leur mets des doigts et j'leur souhaite qu'une perquis' les pèteLa politique, la coke, des boites, pendant qu'ils interdisent les pét'Ça fait longtemps qu'ils nous la mettent, ces cons dépensé par les GrecsLes médias flambent ouais quand c'est dead, l'argent dépensé par les dettesIls bougent les vents, marées et mers, ils ont menti, ok c'est netCar on est gouverné en clair, pour du factice par des fennecs
On fait parti de ceux qui s'rassemblent pasAucun track sans blaseAjoute un accent grave, par ici ça sent l'gazLa basse s'embrase, chut, l'agent t'palpeReste discret, la loyauté ne s'marchande pasJ'la sens glacée en y passant l'brasIci y'a trop d'gens blasés, oui en s'lassant de boireRageant du passé j'vois des gars sans foiQui jalousent les tracés, qui parlent sans voir
Dis leur qu'on patine dans la semoule, qu'on s'en bas les couilles des urnesQu'on galère à faire des sous, mais frère, les trois quart sont déçusLes gens marchent et baissent la tête, mais tu sais la vie m'enseigneCe mode de vie nous reflète qu'ici on oublie l'essentielL'état n'est pas facile, c'est pas l'asile c'est l'carnageEn cas j'insiste, c'est pas d'la zik' c'est du partageJ'rap pour les gens qu'ont pas d'cash, la veine est palpableMoi j'suis pas l'pape, c'est pour les coeurs sans pare-balleMalaise palpable et climat d'peur, c'est pour voir les barbares, les tar-baNous des revendicateursIl faudrait qu'on s'rassemble, qu'on s'prête et qu'on s'batteL'état rouspète, faut que tout pète et qu'on s'barre
Ouais le passant passeEsquinté des wagons, des gardes, dégâts d'mes bombes avec des graf'Écarter les matons mécra, toucher d'la gonz' avec mes garsMelan Omerta, ouais j'chante et j't'emmerdeEsquinté des wagons, des gardes, dégâts d'mes bombes avec des graf'Écarter les matons mécra, toucher d'la gonz' avec mes gars
On fait parti de ceux qui s'rassemblent pasAucun track sans blaseAjoute un accent grave, par ici ça sent l'gazLa basse s'embrase, chut, l'agent t'palpeReste discret, la loyauté ne s'marchande pasJ'la sens glacée en y passant l'brasIci y'a trop d'gens blasés, oui en s'lassant de boireRageant du passé j'vois des gars sans foiQui jalousent les tracés, qui parlent sans voir
Out with the cats in the hood with the rap Hustle though the rocks where most men slept In the wasteland where the Wasco slept Come on Ashley and watch your step
Paroles [...] Hip-hop with a 70's feel. Male vocal. BPM 126.
RELAX Lyrics by Mattic, beat by Blanka Featuring ASM
(Chorus) Relax Relax your mind (Repeat)
Yo who can be the ultimate? I say what side is packing it? Endure like ensure, nigga's need life packets Full metal jackets, and ratchets make inspector gadget go go gadget arms alarm if your charm.
Chill like the wisdom from my Grandma with holy Korans Blood brothers make a bond edged in stone a throne of the kingdom is his, fuck the show biz even if most will raise a kid, television it is.
The parent of a split up home, whose the runner of the field in your dome. Making any progress in game without a name Jon doe identify scanning your brain.
I talk undernet the surface The average can't word the hologram wrapping your heart like saran. Cool like the iceman, a blizzard in hand and rupture the plan, as i see the world as a man.
Of a rare breed, indeed we planet seeds with the words that we use. Idolize by fools swimming in ah dead pool I clock till the better end rules like the Senate.
Nigga's think the made for the house of representatives they prevent this, my rhymes start orange like a sun kiss but here's a twist.
Faith pulls most together just like a puzzle Im strange, but my mouth out powers the human muzzle.
Im ah hustle, clock figures minus triggers and sneak up and bounce on that ass just tiger And sneak up and bounce on ass just tiger sneak on you and bounce on that ass just like tiger so relax
(Chorus) Relax Relax your mind Relax Relax your mind
Get up in the morning black coffee milk is overdue pick up some old cassette set my feelings
I take my time says a friend of mine but I don't mind, I don't mind if I don't find They get to go
see me laying Think 4 yourself x2 Cause the streets don't seem gray when you're on my mind and when you know well I feel fine
How about you ?
Description of your problems Man I know it all connects Get up on the go You never going to figure out talking to everybody need to think for yourself I say
This mans there's dimensions you ain't tapped in yet. Got your focus all wrong but I bet The test is a classroom and you might fail win some lose some, it's all swell.
Description of your problems I know the next person need to get up on the go, got to get up on the, get up on the… You never going to figure out taking advice Got ah think, got ah think, got ah think for yourself allright.
Paroles [...] Laid back Hip-hop. Male vocal. BPM 88.
At The Wine Shop
Lyrics by Mattic & Beat by Blanka
At the wine shop, on the post up Eating cheese looking at this ladies butt. I say that, but it don't make me crazy It's just a compliment, I don't want you baby
Maybe we can plant a plan, I don't think so You just want to back it up until my tip explode Whoa !!!! I ain't down with aggressive ass hoe's I don't hit because I can I'm professional bro you know.
Lately now ah days women cause trouble Get together with cupid and the they pop your bubble Put you on a take off without a shuttle So you better come prepared, lets organize a huddle.
How many times you been fucked over ? A couple, had to walk away from the game like Mike Rucker. Some keep it more nasty then a red neck trucker, after six or seven glasses of some shit I'm seeing double.
I'm pretty cool with the women who run the shop, after hours we be burning on sticks and playing hip-hop. They say I'm better then a under counter medicine pop me in and swallow me down you up in heaven friend.
This one had voice that was raspy smoking cigarettes and conversation it grasp me. Gave one more glass, blew smoke out her mouth, winked her eye and said it's all on the house Her blouse !!!!
Half open, twins showing, blood system was flowing to the tippy top, her card dropped around her ankles. Man I want to spank her, bad girl discipline. She listen to my ideas but I ain't speaking them.
Hit the splif and then she passed it me. Wrapped a brother up a block of that cheese my motions freezed. Leaned over said come and get You ain't got to run come here and blow me a shotgun.
I put the joint in my mouth and burned my tongue Coughing up the ashes to the beat of the drum. She laughed and said I got to come home and take a bath Were you off to this time of morning ? You do the math…
