Noirabe Lyrics (English Translation) – Rohff

Read the full Noirabe (English Translation) lyrics by Rohff along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Rohff’s music, you can also explore Pop corn, another song by Rohff.

[Intro]
As for the Comoros, the Arabs didn’t come to impose a religion on us; they didn’t force us to forget our customs; That’s a fact.

[Pre-chorus]
I don’t count my kids anymore.
In this fu*king game.
I smoke their boss.
And I cut on the weekend.
Cross-shot.
I put about twenty of them.
I’m making people hate.
I like making them hate.

[Chorus]
It’s rapping, it’s rapping.
They ate my fruit but hate the tree (Hate the tree).
Black (Black)
It’s black (Black)
They discriminate against us but want us to take up arms.

[Verse 1: Rohff & Rohff with a racist accent]
Breaker of mouths, breaker of backs.
The old man is calm.
I hit harder than a fairground worker.
Beware of the Comorians.
Pirate of asphalt, robbing your sailors (Huh, huh).
I don’t wait to be validated by good-for-nothings. (Huh, huh)
I blocked all the shlags
YouTubers stalk me
I put diapers on them, talcum powder
Bursts of slaps (Paris)
Even when I’m away, I’ll turn the Park upside down (Park)
Jesus will come back
Diddy will put you back in the act
Face of 94, Vitry is proud of its icon
Neither hipster nor bacon
Under coconut, you’re kidding

Safer value than bitcoin
My grinta annoys them
I fill Bercy without promotion, without betraying my school (Wouuuuh)
I have the codes
I’m the reference of your favorite rapper
The greatest suit in French rap fits me too tight
Too-Too many classics
To list them
Too manly for Fashion Week
They’ll all end up in evening gowns (The world is going to hell, uh)
I’m criticized for seeing clearly
For using Nuclear weapons
And the art of fu*king mothers
They’re acting like khalass to divide
Free, I’m bringing the brothers together
Up against the wall like Rima
I write “Free Palestine” and proud

[Pre-chorus]
I don’t count my kids anymore
In this f*cking game
I smoke their boss
And I cut on the weekend
Cross-stroke
I put about twenty of them
I’m making hate
I like making them hate

[Chorus]
It raps, it raps
They ate my fruit but hate the tree (Hate the tree)
Black (Black)
It’s black (Black)
They discriminate against us but want us to take up arms

[Verse 2]
I don’t believe in Wakanda
I’m unhexing Mami Wata
I’m handsome without lightening my skin, I don’t want to look like a panda
I’ll make Jane my conchita
With Chita’s stupid face
I make the metal talk
The chmetas on Meta
Denigrated on Kunta
Son of a ba*tard, look at the life you have
Hakuna matata, I’m in victory mode
Multiverse is my AD
I have more inspiration than AI
The bag doesn’t make the kichta
The old one is pissed off (Arrgh)
Headliner of the ostracized discriminated
Organized Fitna
On the networks, cunning lobby (Cunning Lobby)
Unity is strength, but the Bassem want to divide it (Oe)
We’ll start again on healthy bases
That after we’ve razed everything (Wouuuuh), there will be talk
Since respect is being lost
We’ll make peace with sonne-per
Like If my son had to choose
Between his mother and his father (Braaaaah)
Fu*k racial hatred on both sides
They’re making their minds bums
I enrich the hearts of our people
It’s Africa that wins
I have faith, I have the antidote
All united like the CAN
There is no Goy
There is only one GOAT

[Chorus]
It raps, it raps
They ate my fruit but hate the tree (Hate the tree)
Black (Black)
It’s black (Black)
They discriminate against us but want us to take up arms

[Chorus]
It raps, it raps
They ate my fruit but hate the tree (Hate the tree)
Black (Black)
It’s black (Black)
They discriminate against us but want us to take up arms

[Chorus]
It raps, it raps
They ate my fruit but hate the tree (Hate the tree)
Black (Black)
It’s black (Black)
They Discriminate but want us to take up arms (Eiwah)

[Outro]
To all my haters, go comment, I don’t give a damn. The Comorian is Muslim first and foremost. There are more than two thousand ethnic groups in Africa, with us there are no differences, no complexes. Oh! Calm your pagan sorcerer hearts. Brrah brrah bang! You wanted to insult me ​​as a black-Arab, I made it a classic and a T-shirt, and everyone’s going to wear it, you sons of mhhhhh, fascists, house-niggers, tchip. Educate yourselves, you bunch of uneducated people! Strength to all my Bantus, Soninke, Bambara, Bete, Dioula, Fulani, Wolof, Manjaque, my West Indians, Berbers, my (??), Amazigh, yes my Chaoui, my Turks, my Kurds, my Chechens, my native French who don’t give us suspicious looks. We are together!