LA POIRE – لابوار Lyrics – Abyusif – أبيوسف

LA POIRE – لابوار Lyrics Meaning

[المقدمة]
He’s just saying it could be a thing, a person, or even an idea—anything that represents a concept.

[المقطع الأول]
He’s describing this mysterious, night-owl lifestyle, moving in silence like Batman, almost floating above the regular world. He’s in his private garden, guarded, waiting for something as random as a Samo Zaen release, showing that he’s alert but detached from what’s trendy. He’s not into flashy things like energy drinks, but he’s all about getting paid in dollars. He performs with playback, doesn’t care if it’s a dive bar or a fancy spot—he brings the same vibe everywhere. His role in this game is serious, like manning a cannon, not just throwing party tricks. Whether his voice is on point or not, it doesn’t matter—what counts is the message. He’s mocking those who pretend to be tough or cool, especially the type that flaunt gold rings. He stays awake while others sleep, even waking the ghosts, meaning he’s grinding in silence. He raps freely, hard-hitting and with confidence. Wearing sunglasses is his way of choosing to forget things. He doesn’t rap for fan hype, he writes real bars. If someone tries to play him dirty, he’ll go all in. Cameras are on him like he’s in a movie scene. He owns the rockstar vibe more than anyone else, and he’s doing it without even trying. Even if others praise the track highly, he keeps it real and calls it “mid.” And he makes it clear—he’s not bothered by your opinion or existence.

[جسر]
Yeah, that’s just how he is. That’s his personality—cool, bold, and unapologetic.

[المقطع الثاني]
He’s saying he’s not about the mainstream, soft, colorful vibes like those who carry tiny dogs or repeat catchy pop choruses that feel forced. He mocks those who think they’re in control but are actually just following trends. You’re not the captain—you’re just another shirt buttoned up by someone else. He’s active while others are stuck. He opens safes using his bass—not to steal, but to create. He’s demanding rent, showing he’s serious about his work. Smashing the keyboard and clapping on the laptop means he’s mixing chaos with creativity. He never invited your squad in, and he’s not even following them—he doesn’t care. He sees himself as cold and set apart, like a chilled drink at a street kiosk—simple but strong. He doesn’t complain about what he’s missing or act like he deserves more. Everyone’s out here surviving and hustling—so don’t act superior. Even when he’s just chilling in the bathroom, bars come to him naturally. His punchlines hit like a slap, not gently like a drink’s warmth. If someone tries to provoke him, he’ll answer back in front of everyone. He jokes he’s like a birth doctor—bringing something new into the world. It’s raw, not always “appropriate,” but that’s what makes it real. He tells the haters to go play in the mud and curse whatever they want. Their vibe is nasty, full of lies and flaws. When things get tough, they crumble. They try to act wise, but they’re shaky like nervous calves. He’s got knowledge on his side, while they struggle to keep up. He holds himself back from reacting just to prove a point—he lets stubborn silence speak instead. His rhymes are deep and layered, not surface-level. He calls out someone pretending to know everything, even referencing fancy sauce like Tabasco to mock their fake sass. He hears people calling it a diss, but to him, this is pure art—something real you can actually touch. He’s not selling himself; he’s just doing his thing. The ones trying to hold the mic dropped it—or it just doesn’t suit them anymore. He shrugs it off like there’s nothing left to say. No fake hype, no roadblocks, no drama—just music. Whatever he had in the vault, he already spent it through creative lines. His mind is chill, uncomplicated.

[الخاتمة]
Everyone has their own pace and way of expressing their thoughts through actions—no need for extra words.