Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Heard a lot of talk about the ocean, yeah Heard a lot of talk about the sea, now Heard a lot of talk about a lot of things Never meant that much to me Heard a lot of talk about my spirit Heard a lot of talk about my soul But I decided that anxiety and pain Were better friends, so I let it go Did you let it go now? Did you let it go, our love? Did you let it go, my friend? Let's get it back Let's get it back, together, yeah Heard a lot of talk about this Jesus A man of love and a man of strength But what a man was two thousand years ago Means nothing at all to me today He could have been Telling me about my higher self But he only lives inside my prayer So what he was may have been beautiful But the pain is right now and right here Let it go, love Come on, let it go, our love Let it go, my friend Let's get it back Let's get it back together Let it go, love Let it go, our love Let it go, my friend Let's get it back Let's get it back together Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? Did you give it up? [Incomprehensible] Let it go [Incomprehensible] Let it go, love Let it go, my friend And let's get it back Let's get it back together Let it go, love Let it go, yeah, now Let it go, my friend Let's get it back Let's get it back together, oh yeah

C'est mafia k'1 fry, 9.4., c'est mafia k'1 fry Rim-k mafia k'1 fry, Rim-k mafia k'1 fry Vivre sans gêne, ça c'est le son qu'on aime, Ouais gros rim-k, 1.1.3., ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, Le vécu et la ky-fun, par tradition, ça c'est le son qu'on aime, Ça c'est le son qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun. C'est Rim-K le vitrio et sa bande, chez nous c'est la funk, les banques, Un splif, ça parle, ça s' taille, sur le banc des accusés, Dans l'insouciance, tout le temps on vit dans l'excès, on fait qu'abuser, Pervers après trois verres, on brise toujours les coeurs et les gueules, Expert comme un?, et on roupille l' dimanche, Bouge jamais sans un truc dissimulé au ceinturon ou dans la manche, Fait crier la voitise pour impressionner la miss, on a l'manche, On a l'mort, te drague même en allemand, trop impulsif ch'te siffle, Grimpe dans mon ambiance, fumée nocive Appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, Ouais appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros. C'est la tendance fashion, coupe aux molards Et c'est sans moi, p'tit clin d'oeil aux banlieusards, D'mon jour, avec une ou deux dans le noir, aux regards glacials, T'aimes ce son qui porte mes initiales R.I.M-K Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros. Pour les hauteurs d'la ville, les youves dans les tures-voi, Un p'tit son mélodieux pour les durs à cuir, Par tradition. Quoi genre tu rentres pas, j'te met V.I.P. chaque VSD, Une substance bizarre du genre LSD, Joue la profile bas, T'auras du mal à déchiffrer le langage et l'délire, un jack, un coup bas, La ky-fun par tradition, le rap c'est temporaire, ça m'a évité les missions, La prison, de trop courir, car pour prendre le pied au cul on est sans gêne, Dans les véhicules, au fumier, quand ça gèle. Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Pour les hauteurs d'la ville, les youves dans les tures-voi, Un p'tit son mélodieux pour les durs à cuir, Par tradition, On veux des loves sans interruption, foulek à chaques apparitions, Camille groult, 9.4., Mafia k'1 fry, laisse moi kiffer l'son Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, vivre sans gêne, inconscients et jeunes, du respect, Ça c'est les sons qu'on aime, le vécu et la ky-fun Appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros, appelle moi le gros.

A fiddler on the roof Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka You might say every one of us Is a fiddler on the roof Trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune Without breaking his neck It isn't easy You may ask, why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous? We stay because Anatevka is our home And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you! In one word Tradition! Tradition, tradition! Tradition! Tradition, tradition! Tradition! Because of our traditions We've kept our balance for many, many years Here in Anatevka we have traditions for everything How to eat, how to sleep, how to wear clothes For instance, we always keep our heads covered And always wear a little prayer shawl This shows our constant devotion to God You may ask, how did this tradition start? I'll tell you I don't know! But it's a tradition! (Hey!) Because of our traditions Everyone knows who he is And what God expects him to do Who, day and night, must scramble for a living Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers? And who has the right, as master of the house To have the final word at home? The Papa The Papa! Tradition! The Papa The Papa! Tradition! Who must know the way to make a proper home A quiet home A kosher home? Who must raise the family and run the home So Papa's free to read the holy book? The Mama The Mama! Tradition! The Mama The Mama! Tradition! At three, I started Hebrew school At ten, I learned a trade I hear they've picked a bride for me I hope She's pretty! The sons The sons! Tradition! The sons The sons! Tradition! And who does Mama teach To mend and tend and fix Preparing me to marry whoever Papa picks? The daughters The daughters! (I have five daughters!) Tradition! The daughters The daughters! Tradition! (ALL VERSES REPEAT - LAYERED) The papa! The mama! The sons! The daughters! Tradition! The papa (mama) (sons) (daughters)! The papa (mama) (sons) (daughters)! Tradition! And in the circle of our little village We've always had our special types For instance, Yente the matchmaker Avram, I have a perfect match for your son, a wonderful girl! Who is it? Rachul, the shoemakers daughter Ugh, Rachul, but she can hardly see, she's almost blind! Tell the truth, Avram: is your son so much to look at? The way she sees, and the way he looks, it's a perfect match! And Reb Nachem, the beggar (Alms for the poor, alms for the poor!) Here, Reb Nachem, is one kopek One kopek? Last week you gave me two kopeks I had a bad week So if you had a bad week, why should I suffer? And most important, our beloved Rabbi Rabbi! May I ask you a question? Certainly, my son Is there a proper blessing for the Czar? A blessing for the Czar, of course! May God bless and keep the Czar... far away from us! Dai-dai-dai-dai! Dai-dai-dai-dai! Dai-dai-dai-dai, dai-dai-dai-dai-dai! Dai-dai-dai-dai! Dai-dai-dai-dai! Dai-dai-dai-dai, dai-dai-dai-dai-dai! Then there are the others in our village They have a much bigger circle His honor the constable, his honor the priest His honor the ... many others We don't bother them And so far, they don't bother us And among ourselves, we get along perfectly well Of course, there was the time when he sold him a horse And he delivered a mule But that's all settled now! Now we live in simple peace and harmony (It was a horse) (It was a mule) (It was a horse!) (It was a mule!) (How many times are we gonna go over this? It was a—) Horse! Mule! Horse! Mule! Horse! Mule! Horse! Mule! Tradition Tradition! Tradition! Tradition! Tradition! Tradition! Tradition Without our traditions Our lives would be as shaky as... As... As a fiddler on the roof!