LYRICS GAME

Fill in the lyric gaps as you listen to the song
Rappers and slammers
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Write our language wonderfully
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I gotta say, the leader of it all
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The one who comes out on top is Kery James
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And you're gonna hear him
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Pay special attention to the lyrics
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How beautiful it is
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And how French it is
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I blacken blank pages
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With ebony ink
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With the ink of my sorrows
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I shout myself hoarse in the raging wind
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My words take off
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Like drifting clouds
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I'm killed every day
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In Molière's tongue
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I strike back each blow
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In Césaire's tongue
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Black poet, I sing my loneliness
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I dress hopes that dawn strips bare
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I draw on dead leaves
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In autumn colors
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My poetry's born where summer falls asleep
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When winter hums
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Since writing's daring
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I dare without half-measures
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I have purple memories
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Enough to make the sky blush
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I come from endless cement towers
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A graveyard of illusions
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Where desires hide away
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When tomorrows
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Don't even promise anything anymore
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Dying at twenty
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Might seem romantic to you
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Dragging through the day, I saw night born
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We long believed living
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Was killing boredom
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Equality, I thought I saw her in silhouette
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That night when poverty
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Aimed a gun at my head
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I blacken blank pages
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With ebony ink
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With the ink of my sorrows
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I shout myself hoarse in the raging wind
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My words take off
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Like drifting clouds
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I'm killed every day
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In Molière's tongue
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I strike back each blow
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In Césaire's tongue
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Black poet, I sing my loneliness
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I dress hopes that dawn strips bare
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Judged by my skin, I write on instinct
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I open my arms to the world
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But only sorrow holds me
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So, forced smile
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I'll never be French
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Here, the colonists' sons are scared
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Of being greatly replaced
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My days will fade at sunrise
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They'll wage it without me
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Éric Zemmour's civil war
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Fear of difference or health panic
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Masked sheep
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Think dictatorship's a relief
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I live a bohemian life
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I free myself through letters
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I don't wait to be loved
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I demand respect
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Every instant I die
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I'm not much
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Can we make the world better
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By sowing prose petals?
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With ebony ink
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With the ink of my sorrows
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I shout myself hoarse in the raging wind
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My words take off
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Like drifting clouds
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I'm killed every day
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In Molière's tongue
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I strike back each blow
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In Césaire's tongue
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Black poet, I sing my loneliness
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I dress hopes that dawn strips bare
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Black, black, black
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I'm often in a
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Black mood
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I have
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Black thoughts
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Sometimes I see
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Everything in black
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My poetry is
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Black mood
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I'm often in a
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Black, black, black, black
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I have
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Black, black, black, black
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Sometimes I see
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Black, black, black, black, black, black, black
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My poetry is
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Black mood