Suprêmes (2021) - full transcript

What hope
can a young person have

who is born
into a soulless neighborhood,

who lives
in an ugly building,

surrounded by a kind
of competition of ugliness?

In a society that prefers
to turn a blind eye

and that only intervenes when it feels
it has to reprimand and forbid.

They're known as "taggers".

By night they go on the prowl
with markers and spray cans

and are very fond of subway cars.

These terrorists armed
with bombs of color are all kids.

A 22-year-old student,
Malik Oussekine, died



from a heart attack
caused by police beating.

MALIK, R.I.P.!

Stole some spray cans!

Almost got slashed.

Toy me and you're dead!

You're hot, man.

I call the doors!

Anyone got a beer?

Think fast!

Move it!

Come on!

Quick, grab the photo!

Suprême Motherfuckers!

Let's bounce!



AUTHENTIK

THE CHALLENGE TO SECULARISM

...TV shows and politicians
say rap is for fools

I say,
too many miscarriages of justice...

Daddy swiped a roast for dinner, kids.

-What gives?
-Where were you?

You were gone two days.

I was kissing God's ass, he says hi.

God doesn't shower?
'Cos you stink!

My darling Gigi, you're beautiful!

-Where's that down jacket?
-What jacket?

The one you were meant to return
to Tacchini.

-I did.
-So why are they on my ass nonstop?

Listen, dude, get this straight

you get paid if the clothes
are returned after the shoot.

You're just a courier. Clear?

Clear as crystal.

Can you lend me some pants?
Gotta go see my dad.

Mine are filthy.

I want that jacket back.

I'm working on it.

Hey, cut the shit, let's do this.

Yeah, we've got a gig to rehearse for.

Sorry, fire away.

The Assassins, live from north Paris!

Gonna tell you a story
And bragging apart

I'd even call it art
I'd even call it art

Gonna tell you a story
And bragging apart

I'd even call it art,
I'd even call it art

Assassin number one
I know you're out in the cold

Today like tomorrow
Can we believe what we're told?

Can you all hear me?
Paris, that's my home

I keep calling but
there's no one on the phone...

So hang up!

What's so funny?

Guys, you're rapping in French.
Like two clowns!

-Two what?
-Clowns!

Rap is American,
didn't anybody tell you?

We're gonna make our mark
and not just on walls.

Shut your damn mouth, Solo!

Think you're US sponsored
'cos you've got the bling?

That's not the issue, man.

Then what?

Come talk when you do something.

The day I pick up a mic
you can take a seat

and shut the fuck up.
Battle cry!

Great, check this.

I'm sitting on my seat.

Don't they need another group
to fill the bill on Saturday?

-Yeah, they do.
-Since you're so hot.

Yeah, just come along.

Don't move!

What size are your threads?

-Answer, son of a bitch!
-Medium.

Dad, can you bring my bag up?

-Not eating?
-Gonna take a stroll, be back later.

Didier, a quick cut?

Who's there?

Answer you fucker,
I know you're there!

Why didn't you answer?
I almost decked you.

What're you writing? Let's see.

No.

What is it, your diary?

What's with you?

Nothing. You write, that's nice.

Such is life.

What's up, asshole?

You heard about the gig
Squat and Solo are doing?

They think they're number one.

We'll show them they're number two.

-I don't get it.
-We're on the bill.

You didn't do that.
Seriously?

Are you fucking crazy?
Get a grip!

-On the bill to do what?
-We can do it.

-Do what? A tap dance routine!
-Dance if you like, I'm gonna rap.

Up on stage, mic in hand.

Okay?

We'll make a show of ourselves.

Goddammit...

My lyrics probably suck!

Come on, what've we got to lose?

What are you on about?

-Gentlemen.
-Should know them by heart by now.

Next time, I'll tattoo
a tricolor on my ass to make it easier!

-This gig will be a fucking massacre.
-Even better!

We're no rappers!

-You look like a Caribbean crab fisher.
-Shut your Portuguese mouth.

Gimme a toke.

Throw me a rhyme.

-What?
-Off the top of your head.

He's calling me out.

Off the top of my head?

Inspire me, man.

I come on, full of fervor
Gonna rape your sister...

No, keep it proper.

I come home with your sister...

You want it proper?

I come on full of fervor
Roughing up your sister...

Is that okay?

Who knows this mister

The animal that flairs...

That savagely ensnares... its prey.

Okay, keep going.

-Don't push your luck.
-Go on.

Keep going, it's good.

-Want some more, Kool Shen?
-Continue.

Gimme a word.

Continue.

-Hey, I'm not a goddamn word machine.
-It has something.

-Really?
-Keep going.

Harmonizing...

magnetizing...

Harmonizing, magnetizing,
mixing and melding words

Our posse rules the hood

Like an acrobat, I rap

Straight from the street
I rock my prose...

Dare you oppose...

To show what I know
is better by far...

Yeah, sure, Joey Starr.

Take it, Shen.

Okay, here's K2OL SHEN
A.K.A. Kool...

Shen

-Hold on, that sucks...
-No, it's good.

No, that's not what I wrote, man.

Authentik, 'cos I belong to those
who live on the edge

Radically opposed, sensational

Always on call,
I got the motherfucking gift

-Wide awake I riff
-Whatever way it fits

On a bench, or with a spliff...

Yeah, up your ass

No shit!

You jerk!

-That's good.
-No, it's not.

It doesn't flow.

Hold on,
that could make a chorus, dude.

-What?
-No shit, I got the motherfucking gift

-On a bench, or with a spliff...
-Any way you wish

No shit!

-I got the motherfucking gift
-Whatever way it fits

-Any way you wish
-On a bench, or with a spliff

No!

-No what?
-No shit!

I got the motherfucking gift
whatever way it fits, no shit!

I got the motherfucking gift
On a bench, or with a spliff, no shit!

No, drop that, it's wack!

Well, I think it's good.

-It's meaningless.
-It's our bench.

"I got the motherfucking gift
On a bench, or with a spliff"?

Why do you diss what I say?

You don't write it down.

No, 'cos it's wack.

We go with that, it's catchy.

Okay, boss.

But I'll add some stuff.

Shouldn't we go see S?

Got no beat for your rhymes.

Franck, seen the sun today?

Is he well?

He's cooking it up, the beat maker.

You're doing great, keep scratching!

Grand Master S.

Now you've hurt his feelings.

Didier!
Great to see you, cousin.

-Okay, man?
-Didn't know you were coming.

So, what brings you?

As you know,
I never miss a free meal.

Seen your dad deejaying?
Not bad for an old guy.

Okay, Uncle?

-What's that?
-My stuff.

Thought I'd go home,
stop bumming around.

Like, in the meantime.

Wanna dance?

-I came to eat, not to dance.
-Come on!

I don't wanna jive, I wanna eat...

-Come on, let's dance.
-No.

Come on!

You, there...

How dare you come
to my birthday uninvited.

Why are you here?

And those pants,
who'd you steal them from?

-I bought them.
-So why are they up above your ankles?

Know what my son does in life?

He steals.

He draws on walls like a ten-year-old.

Dances, in the dirt, sleeps rough
and pisses in the subway.

He's a bum.

A good for nothing.

-A delinquent.
-You know I don't speak Creole.

You bring shame on me, Didier Morville.

You're nothing.

Nothing.

Now beat it.

Where the hell is he?

-Let's go inside.
-It's 'cos of him we're here

He'll show.

We're with the group.

-Fucking hell, I swear to god!
-Bruno, chill.

Chill? We were meant to meet
to fine tune some stuff.

What now?
No one showed.

Look, they're here!

What're they doing here?
I told them outside.

Yo, guys!

Nikoumouk, baby!
The posse is here!

-What's up?
-Bruno, what gives?

-Is Didier here?
-No, hasn't arrived yet.

What's he playing at?

Goddamn it...

Yazid! What happened to you?

Fucking punk-ass pigs!

Were you with Didier?

Suprême NTM 93, or whatever...

-When are you up?
-How many groups...

We're up first!
First!

Suprême Nikoumouk is in the house!

Where the fuck were you?
Now deal with this!

-Cool it! I'm here, no?
-And so is the entire hood!

Lost your balls on the way, or what?

Let's do this!

Where are the Assassins?

All good?

MC, Suprême NTM, Seine-Saint-Denis...

Hope you brought your seat.

No sweat, man.

It's your first time,
so keep a lid on it!

Sure, darling.

Relax, Shen. It's just rap.

93! You in the house?

Is the Globo full tonight?

My break dance crew,
are they here tonight?

Saint-Denis, you ready?

Tonight, the street takes the stage.

Suprême Nikoumouk, baby.
Shen and Joey,

Tony, my man Reak,
my man Lazer, Lady V...

and my man Yazid!

Mehdi, Kast...

Let's go!
Suprême Nikoumouk, hit it, DJ.

On the rise,
a new one to reckon with

Suprême NTM
always kicking it!

I'm here, getting off big time
You're there, digging my rhymes

Of every doubt, clear your mind

-Drink my words
-Learn them well

'Cos for your brain commotion
I've got my magic potion

An enema, painful, killer class
So take it up the ass

My name is Shen,
inventor of verbal sodomy

No shit! I got the motherfucking gift
Whatever way it fits,

No shit!

I got the motherfucking gift,
Any way you wish, no shit!

I got the motherfucking gift,

Whatever way it fits, no shit!
I got the motherfucking gift!

Yeah Joey, tell them good!

Now Joey Starr, taking up the flame
Running riot, naming the game

Hardcore, 93 has more

I hit the bull's eye,
my style is no lie

-'Cos my rhymes are crude
-Hardcore as the hood

Why fight it?

On a style spree, high velocity

NTM Suprême says
"Go fuck your mother!"

-Tell them, brother!
-Yeah!

Your naked mother is the gifting
of my uplifting

Master class badass
J-o-e-y S-t-a-r-r

He's the man to tell
the men from the toys

But face the truth
the north rules the roost

You know I'm right,
my posse's outside

It's already too late
and I can't wait

-To walk all over you...
-My pleasure...

No shit!
Got the motherfucking gift

Faster, push that body harder

For the hardcore title,
we got no rival

The north wind blasts the toys!

No shit!
Got the motherfucking gift!

You all juiced up?

Having a blast.

Suprême Nikoumouk.

93 Nikoumouk.

Get this fucking party started!

-Go DJ!
-Detonator S!

So your mind must keep pace
The more I riff, the more I ace

Hardcore on the beat for 93
Follow my thought, see my flow

Wordplay weaving to the tempo
With such ease!

We astound, shaping sound
Once more the kings of rap take you out!

Thrill to my skill

I come from Saint-Denis
like my posse

-Move!
-To the power of my hardcore

My lyrics rile, 93 style

Back in the rhythm,
so once in a while

To prove to you rap is mine
My cause is pure prose, so I impose

-Move your ass if you'd compete
-With our master beat

I pound my rhythm in your brain
till it drives you insane

Here and now
I'm raising the game!

Up the heat to the beat

I got the feel,
I'm the real motherfucking deal

No shit!
You got the motherfucking gift

Whatever way it fits,
Any way you wish

No shit!
I got the motherfucking gift...

I got the motherfucking gift!

Saint-Denis!

You awake yet?

Suprême Nikoumouk, baby!

93 is here to stay!

NTM! NTM!

So who's assassinating who now?

Hey, Didier.

I was thinking, next time
we get the chorus really tight...

-Hold on, I don't follow.
-What next time?

We did the job tonight, man.

End of story.
We proved our point...

But we're no rappers, like you said.

If Solo and Squat can do it,
so can we.

Solo and Squat?
Think I wanna be like them?

We just rehearse a few times,
do our thing.

What do you not understand?

Nice, man.

-I'm looking for NTM.
-Yeah, they're over there.

Thanks.

Gentlemen.

-Hey, lady!
-Hello.

Hello.

Looking for the Gay Pride parade?

Franck Chevalier, a friend of Gigi's
I saw you at the Globo the other night.

-And?
-I want to manage you.

-Manage what?
-The group I saw on stage.

There is no group, man.
We did one gig, that's all.

It'd be a shame to stop there.

What've I been telling you?

You were hot,
like a group of Americans.

Americans!

Americans, no less!
Us!

Kool Shen! Kool Shen!
Joey! Joey!

So what'd you do as our manager?

I could get you a contract,
I know people in the music business.

What's your job, dream boy?

-Press agent for Jean-Paul Gaultier.
-Well, that's that.

There's something you don't get.

No, 'cos we're into rap,
we're not into...

Seen how we look?

Seriously, what's the real deal?

-Meaning what?
-I need to know who's part of the group.

-We all are, is that a problem?
-Everyone.

-Like, he's in the group?
-He's in the group, so is he.

Him, we're not too sure.

They're our dancers.

He's my man!
DJ S is our deejay.

-Vivi is our choreographer.
-Nice to meet you.

-And what do you do?
-Me, I'm 16.

So he's trying to smoke.

And I'm security.

No kidding.

That's how it is,
we're in this together.

Live and die.

That seems pretty clear.

-First thing to do is to push your demo.
-Don't have a demo!

So we'll have to make one and...
maybe set up a little tour.

What?

Don't try to play us
'cos we're not doing ballrooms.

Don't worry, no ballrooms.
I promise.

Trust me.

So, to recap, you're thirty...
or thereabouts.

-You rap and your name is...
-"Fuck Your Mother".

"Suprême Nique Ta Mère".

"Nikoumouk"!

I think you got it, no?

Now, go get some pants.

It needs a lyricist.

-Sorry?
-It'd make all the difference.

A lyricist?
What do you mean?

You've got some nerve.

-We don't want no hacks!
-It's common in the music biz.

No offense,
but no one gets your lyrics.

So what's your lyricist
gonna write about? Us?

He's never been to the ghetto.

Not even taxied past it.

-Our artists write about everything.
-Oh yeah?

But hip-hop is not a market,
it's a philosophy.

-Yeah...
-That's true.

But next year it may no longer exist,
so think before you slam the door.

Well, listen up.

Go-fuck-your-mo-ther!

Get it?

You wanted lyrics...

I'll call you.

They wanna play us,
sons of bitches!

Tag the whole place!

Stop, stop!

Hello, Ma'am.

What does NTM mean?

This is our turf!

Go motherfuck elsewhere!

Forget it.

-Fuck your mother!
-First, I don't have a mother.

We come to Trappes to play for free

and you throw shit at us?

Shut the fuck up 93!

Wise up.

-Cool it, guys, we came to play.
-Yeah, this is 78.

What is this, the fucking Mafia?

We came to represent,
not to steal your turf.

Some people wanna hear some rap.

Saint-Denis, you in the house?

Go, Detonator, hit it!

-Saint-Denis!
-Are you ready?

Easy guys, let's have some fun!

Motherfuckers!
This is our turf.

Hey folks, here comes the mover
And his sidekick, the ego-centric killer

La, la, la, lyrical, linguistic gladiator
Grand Inquisitor of style, total negator

Dodging bullets, strutting it radical
From north to south, ruling it poetical

Linguistic acrobat, got no safety net
here comes the boogie man

The boogie, boogie man
Boogie, boogie, man....

I'm the boogie man,
the boogie, boogie man...

Hey guys, take it easy!

-Chino, stop!
-Let go of me!

Beat it!

78, 78, 78!

So much for playing youth centers

if we gotta walk home
like half-assed dicks.

-Plus, we got our cars wrecked.
-Yeah, a total defeat.

Any ripped clothes?
Gigi's gonna kill me.

Screw the clothes!
Who cares?

Guys, what do we say to Gigi?

-Go fuck your mother!
-Right.

Seriously, who gives a damn?

No kidding, guys,
it could've got really nasty tonight.

-Hey Chino, wise up!
-Enough of that goddamn gun!

He defends us!
We get beat up on.

Listen up. You're from north Paris
not the Bronx.

Our goal isn't trench warfare
between hoods!

It's to make music

that speaks to people like you
and even that fails!

How can I make music
dodging beer cans?

Well, I'll just cancel...

Next time, guys,
we enter onExcalibur .

That'll shut their fucking mouths!

Wonderful, Joey, I can see you now

clad in a suit of armor,
with swords and arrows

riding on your little horse!

Kiss my ass, Claudia Schiffer!
Think you got style? Oh, yeah?

Let me show you,
if you've got no balls.

You'll get run over!

Oh, Fortuna...

Oh, 93 Baba...

Come and suck...

my big dick!

Watch out!

-What the fuck!
-Son of a bitch!

Well, it's one way to make a splash.

And win respect
from a record company.

-So they can shaft us with a lyricist?
-That kind?

I'm doing my best, guys, okay?

-Did your mom give the demo to Sony?
-Who does your mom know at Sony?

You almost ran me over!

You were on the road,
but I swerve for talent.

I was singing opera, so what?

-Got a problem?
-Hold on, what's with Sony?

They're pals of mine so if you want
a meeting I can set one up.

-Pals of yours?
-Yeah.

I know folks in the music biz.

If you're looking for a record company,
no sweat.

-Who is this joker?
-Why ask me? How do I know?

So what do you want?

I'm Sébastien Farran. I saw you last
week opening for the Assassins.

It was good, so I came tonight.

And... it was less good.

Don't get carried away.

I think you've got potential,
so if you want to get signed...

How old are you?

Nineteen.

I like this Hairboy.

I'm gonna hitch a ride.

Hit the road!

Taking a little spin.

I'm sick of walking the streets.

What's this thing?

You kidding me, a phone in your car?

-Yeah, man.
-That can't be beat.

-A phone in the car!
-Sit down.

We're the winners!
Champions of the world!

-Get down!
-You can call who you like?

-Who and when I like.
-Well, call your hairdresser.

Do a lot of gigs?

Why? Wanna be our manager?

You're too little.

-And we already have Frankie.
-The blond guy?

Does he pay you?

'Cos if he doesn't
he's not a real manager.

Do you even know what NTM means?

I know that with thirty
we won't cut it.

-It's impossible.
-Oh, yeah?

So, who's "we"?

You think you're already on board?

Even IAM, they're only six.

Six guys named after pyramids.

Sorry, but I don't get it.

No way I wanna be like them.

Fuck your mother.

-Sorry?
-Fuck Your Mother.

Didn't you ask me what NTM stands for?

With your cheeky little grin.

You're not a serial killer?

Are you fucking kidding me?

Who the hell are you?

Don't ask questions.
Come on up.

If I fart here, I go straight to jail?

Straight to jail.

You'll wake the old folks!

Fuck your mother!

And now they've lost their voice...

Focus.

Inhale...

Exhale.

Inhale...

Exhale.

Does he know we're not choir boys?

Your voice can't even last 20 minutes.

I rap in clubs, not to fill stadiums.

But in the state you're in,
you can't even do clubs.

The fact is, you've no voice.

Go, Qi Gong! I'll show them.

Hit it.

Just like Trust!

Before we signed,
no one believed in them.

Before we get down to business,
a few details...

The name?

-It stays!
-We keep the name. No change.

NTM is great. The best name
since the Sex Pistols.

How could we
call ourselves anything else?

-For the sleeve, we thought of...
-Mondino!

Mondino.

Téléphone, Bashung, Johnny, Prince...

-Madonna.
-Bowie!

-Know how much he costs?
-For free!

We work together at Gaultier.

Right.

Of course.

For the poster campaign?

We've tagged Paris
for two years now.

I think we're okay advertising wise.

-Promotion?
-We're touring the youth centers...

It's huge!

Yeah, it's going pretty well.

Great.
Anything to add?

Here we're three,
but in fact we're thirty

who you'll get to meet.

-What others?
-Three plus thirty, like he said.

Yeah, thirty-three.

This is the album deal,
the others can wait.

-Just three checks, Sébastien?
-Perfect.

I'll go get the contracts.

Seen his shoes? No socks!

Here.

Fuck me!

What's with you?
Let's split.

-What?
-We haven't signed yet!

-We take the dough and go!
-Don't talk shit, sit down.

What are we doing here, bro?
Take a good look around you.

He has gold pens,
we have holes in our shoes.

If the others wanted a lyricist
they had a reason.

That check is just a small advance
on the album.

Album? We do an album?

I don't know how to do an album.

-Ten or so songs, an album.
-For when?

Whenever it's ready.
What's the problem?

-Gonna write ten or more songs?
-No one here has ever recorded an album.

IAM wrote 180 songs
before they hit the studio.

How many have we?

One! So, let's go.

To do what?

Are we from Saint-Denis, or not?

Come on.

He sure found his tongue today.
Money talks.

I don't even have a bank account.

-I can take care of it.
-No, I'll do it.

As we mentioned earlier

a night of intense violence
in a suburb of Lyon

following the death of a young man,
this report.

Thomas Claudio, 21 years old,

was riding, without a helmet,
on the back of a motorcycle

when it collided with a police car
yesterday afternoon at Vaulx-en-Velin.

To die at the age of 21

in a motorcycle accident
I find that really unfair.

It was the police that killed him.
It was the police and no one else.

Barricades, burning cars

clashes between the police
and demonstrators...

My duty, the truth to tell

'Cos silence will never, go down well...

Three in one month, it's a disgrace.

Is that what we call the police?

Thomas was riding pillion
with his friend Laurent

when a police car
blocked off the street.

It seems Laurent panicked...

We don't want double-standard justice...

The police think this affair is over,
but it's just beginning.

It won't end like this.

Tension on the streets is mounting
as riot police charge...

It's my duty, the truth to tell

As we won't put up with silence
ever again...

The world of tomorrow, it's all ours
In our hands, we have the power...

The problems paralyzing,
the hood...

The only truth must be
the right to equality

Time again to pull the trigger

On an ugly civil war...

Is this the orgy?

What's going on?

Just a sec, Shen, be right with you.

What's with him?

Where were you?

-We started five hours ago.
-Right.

Do you hear?

Living in the Eiffel Tower
doesn't mean you can diss me, punk.

What's your problem?

It's that I know how much
a studio costs.

-Sure.
-What's going on?

Kool Shen, no worries!

I'm here, no?

That's how it is.

-Thank you.
-Ready to roll?

3, 2, 1, hit it!

How lucky,
the chance to live in France

A shame, it's so full of incompetence...

Hairboy, relax!
He's your golden ticket.

Violence in the hood
is misunderstood

Stroll around the high rise,
look the kids in the eyes

You who decide...

Portugal's on a roll!

That's the real matter
Can't just wait for it to get better

Me I'm not a leader,
I'm just the loud speaker

of a disgusted generation...

Just the loud speaker
of a disgusted generation!

Nice!

...With deprived youth
we stand in solidarity

The only truth must be
the right to equality

Time again to trigger
an ugly civil war...

Yeah, man, get it on!

The world of tomorrow, it's all ours

In our hands, we have the power...

Our American rapper!

Strutting his stuff.

Are we good?

Tudo bem!

You're early!

How did they get that thing
into this room?

It's like 25 meters long,

five times the size of the door...

Can you listen up?

Be with me.

Got your lyrics?

-Lyrics?
-Are you fucking serious?

-You wrote nothing?
-Chill, bro.

-Just kidding.
-Quit fucking with me.

Oh, come on...

That's your lyric sheet?

This is an old lyric sheet.

-That rag?
-Like rum, the older, the better!

Do I interfere in your verses?

Hey, I wrote some verses.
Can I try?

Not a priority.
Joey, you're up.

Yes, Captain!

Here, cheerlead.

Priority, my ass!

I'm on!

Give him a bit more level
in his headset.

-Tell him to raise the mic.
-Raise the mic.

Does he need a manual?

Raise it.
What do you not understand?

How do I raise it?

You know, like this.

Rolling.

Keep it down, guys.
We're listening.

Born and bred in a disgrace,
called the suburbs of Paris...

-Great take, Didier!
-From the top, I'll do it again.

One more time.
It was my first fucking take!

-Take off the headset.
-I'll do it again.

No, listen up.

We won't have a second chance,
get it?

Today it's us, tomorrow it's another.

There's no way I'm going back
to the building site with my old man.

So do me a favor, rap in time!

You were ahead of the beat.

It fucks up the groove.
Take your time.

Count the four beats of the intro
in your head.

-No big deal.
-Roll it.

Go ahead, roll.

-This thing bugs me.
-Just leave it.

-I only came for the orgy.
-Focus.

Born and bred in a disgrace,
called the suburbs of Paris...

Cut!

Hey, you punk-assed bitches!

Hey guys, cool it!

For fuck's sake.

Want us to up the tempo a bit?

I don't rap like an American!

-No, the tempo's fine.
-Take a fucking hike!

Listen up, you with me here?

-You're with me?
-Yeah.

Leave that, you know it by heart.
Listen, we've got all day to record.

You can do it.
It'll fall into place. Okay?

We'll structure it later.
So, I'll cue you in.

Uncover one ear, I'll cue you in.

-Cue me in on the first two lines...
-On the first.

Roll!

Easy, you'll be fine.

-Fuck, yeah!
-Go for it.

Born and bred in a disgrace,
called the suburbs of Paris

Born and bred in a disgrace,
called the suburbs of Paris

Since I was a kid my only aim
was to stake my claim

Too lazy to work,
too proud to scrounge

I prefer to lounge

'Cos I know working like a dope
would be the end of my rope

So stop and think,
how many are just like me

On your city fringes
and if that's how things be

It's 'cos for too long now
folks just turn their backs

On the issues that are crucial,
issues that are social

Choking the youth,
living hand to mouth

To the south, east, west and north
So don't be amazed!

If violence is growing by the day

'Cos some only begin to taste it

When their loved ones,
they get wasted!

-You son of a bitch!
-See?

Scratching your balls can be inspiring!

-If that ain't shit!
-Damn!

-What a take!
-Well?

-So, what's the story?
-I get it...

-Just gotta let it flow.
-So let's do another!

-Where is everyone?
-A bunch of goddamn kids!

Can't sit still for two seconds!

Go on home
and quit busting our balls!

-What's up?
-They dropped a speaker on the desk!

Calm down, it was an accident.

-Who did that? Be careful.
-Chill, Hairboy, it wasn't your speaker!

You think I've nothing better to do?

-Sébastien, chill.
-Than sort your shit!

Watch your tongue, yo!

What're you laughing at?
What's so funny?

-Chill.
-What is this, a playground?

I'll chill when your buddies
decide to act professionally.

So tomorrow, they stay home.

-You son of a bitch!
-Cool it, guys!

Everything is fine!

Tomorrow, I'm here.
And the day after!

-Didier!
-What?

Chill, guys. Are you crazy?

-We're here to enjoy!
-To make an album.

-Did you hear him?
-Stop! Please, come on.

Let's do the backing vocals...

No one here is leaving. Get it?

-Did I ask them to?
-No, but I'm telling you.

Guys?

Are you ready?

I think they're ready!

Up the volume a bit.

Frankie, you're the best!
Great idea.

What'd we do without you, Smiley?

-Yeah, what?
-Dunno.

93 Saint-Denis!

Saint-Denis! Saint-Denis!

Here.

A present.

It's our first maxi single.

It's like a kind of a mini-album
before the real one.

We sold 30,000.

Already 30,000.

Bruno says it's enough
to fill the Paris stadium.

Not bad, eh?

I'll give it a listen.

Your new fad is making records?

It's for real, it's serious.
We've got a record company, Sony.

They're really behind us.

And we're even getting paid...

Like a regular job, see?

A real job.

Basically, Bruno and me write the lyrics

and DJ S takes care of the beat.

The beat?

The music, the backing track...

Hold on, I can't hear you.

I don't hear any music.

Yeah, 'cos you haven't listened to it.

Must you shame me with this
"Fuck your mother" stuff?

First on the walls, now on records.

When are you going to just blend in?

Integrate once and for all?

Coming home from work
I see that dumb name all over the walls.

"Joey Starr!"

Yeah...

You have to be intelligent
to make music.

Your record company didn't tell you?

I just don't understand

why you don't think of me

with the education I gave you.

-The education you gave me?
-Yeah.

Wow, you've got some nerve.

The education you gave me?

What education did you give me,
can you tell me?

Kicking my head in from age 5,
is that the one you mean?

Making me eat my rabbit, depriving me
of my mother, is that education?

Letting me sleep on benches like a bum,
is that your education?

That's how you educate?
Good job!

You should've thrown me out with her
when you had the chance.

-Get outta here!
-Or what?

-Now!
-Or else what?

-Beat it!
-Or else what?

I'm right here,
so what are you going to do?

Tell me!

You're gonna beat up on me?

Break the broom handle across my back?
Go ahead!

Go ahead, I'm right here.
Land those punches!

Hit me!
Here, look!

What's the problem?
I'm right here. Hit me!

Please!
Just us two, no one looking. Do it!

Hit me, smash my face in!

Just like before...

Don't want to anymore?

Don't want to beat the shit out of me
like you used to?

What did you do to my mother
so she left me here?

What did you do to her?

Get out of my sight.

Want me out of your sight?
Tough shit.

'Cos you're gonna hear me,
and see me too, all over!

So, cover your eyes and ears,
it's gonna make noise.

There's that old guy again!

-Never misses a game.
-He's got an open goal!

-That was a foul.
-Foul!

What're they doing?

-Hi, Didier.
-Joseph.

So, did your old man dig the record?

How could he fucking miss?

I don't believe it, wide open!

A tap in, what an asshole!

-Even I could...
-Shut it!

Don't badmouth my players.

You wanted to play rap,
let us play football!

For god's sake!

What's up with you?

Christiane, mind if I eat
with you guys tonight?

The problems paralyzing,
the hood uprising

Like wildfire, mobilizing

So if it's now time to sound
the alarm bell

It's my duty,
the truth to tell...

Beyond our wildest dreams.

As rioting rages
in the suburbs

we've come to talk
to this rebellious youth.

And who better
than the rap group NTM?

Whose first maxiThe World of Tomorrow
has rapidly become

the anthem for this anger.

NTM, hello.

-Hey guys, we're on TV.
-Focus, it's for TV!

-Hello.
-Hello, NTM.

So, the suburbs are burning
as you release your first record.

Let me stop you right there.

We didn't ask you here
to talk about the suburbs.

We're not a mouthpiece
for a cause...

No, we're here to talk music.

The only ones we speak for
are these homies here, 93 NTM.

Why ask us?
Go to where it's burning.

But since you're here,
let's use the opportunity.

See? Today's paper.

They talk about
the subway "thugs".

So thanks to you journalists,
we musicians

are put in the same basket
as rapists and cut-throats.

Stop mixing it all up,
we're rappers.

We use mics, not guns.

"Zulu Nation! Peace, unity,
love and fun!" Ring a bell?

The real gang
is the cops and the politicians!

That's the scoop!

Did you get that on camera?

Sure, but there's your name,
your lyrics...

Might it not be wiser
to quell the fire rather than fuel it?

I just told you!

What's your problem?

You think rap is to blame?

For the war in Kuwait too?

-Stop filming!
-Put down that camera!

Go back home!

Point your camera here!

Wanna film something?

Film this. Where were you?

Who did that to you?

-Hold on! Where?
-The police station.

That's what your fucking cops
do to us!

Do you trust me or not?

We'll find a way.

This concert is gonna happen!

I'm the manager, what's up?

Take it easy!

-They pulled the permit.
-What?

There must be some mistake.

-What's going on?
-No, no mistake.

-What, then?
-Verbal violence is no longer acceptable.

NTM's lyrics incite hatred
against the authorities.

So in a move to calm things down,

Mantes-la-Jolie
won't be hosting you tonight.

Hey, you're going to open that door...

Can't do things right for once?

MC Solaar, yes.

NTM, no!

We're gonna do this gig.

-We're not moving!
-Fuck his mother!

Whatever happens,
the show goes on!

-We just play here.
-Nice work, guys.

The dream venue,
better than Paris Stadium!

Yeah, dream boy.

No lighting,
the floodlights are dead.

You'd better start now,
before nightfall.

-Don't worry.
-I'll go round up the kids.

What'll we do when it gets dark?

Let's get started!

When's it gonna start?

Didier!

A kid wants to talk to you.

-Who the fuck?
-That kid over there.

Come on, guys, let's go!

What do you want?

My name is David...

I'm your little brother.

Can't you see we're busy?

Can we talk afterwards?

No, beat it.
If there's any trouble, you're dead!

Fuck! How many kids does my father have?

-Go on home!
-Hey, guys!

It seems the deputy mayor

wants to stop our concert,
so let's raise our fingers.

A big finger for the Mayor!

The motherfucking Mayor!

Go DJ, hit it!

Saint-Denis! Do I hear you?

Authentik, typical,
flavor aromatical

Never identical, yet poetical

Unlimited, my calling is inimical
I'm not some joker, idiopathical

My virtue is acoustic
and I'm fanatical

'Cos my inspiration
is totally mystical

Trampling to the beat
all journalist critique

I am authentik!

Authentik, Authentik
NTM stays true

Sowing panic,
always in the news

The scourge takes hold
with its digital toll

For the good cause,
I never take a pause

Kool Shen of Suprême NTM

To our authenticity I lay claim

A too rare virtue in this day and age

To be doled out any old way

To people who are just on display
One, I take two, next comes three

Take it easy, guys!

Keep going!

All those who itch to lie
Telling you whatever they like

Stop! Don't dare do that

'Cos to take you out,
no need for a contract...

Give us some light!
Can't see shit!

Find a solution!

Authentik!

Let's hear you!

Can't see shit!

Saint-Denis, you here?

At overstepping,
I've got the knack

And as we know,
the arrogance to back

Dodging the punches of the media

Who bandy my name
with no conviction

To bathe in the glow
of my omnipresence

'Cos it's a shot in the arm

A lesson for who dares,
ever and always!

Authentik!

The street made two poets
A fact, no need to show it

Outta my way,
you sully my name

Who cares if I'm not
front page fame!

Stop the flak, system attack

People with a grudge
who think they can judge

In the name of who or what?

Truth lives just down my street

And let it be clear,
let's not dissemble

Rap is not a kit
that you half assemble

Staking your claim
is no easy game

And jumping the bandwagon
is no soft option

Who in France is a rap aficionado?
What journalist types no typos?

Easy to negate, not to create

Unless you got style
and imagination fertile

Which is often
not the case for you

You go from rock to rap
right on cue

But hey, if I'm your act

To take you out,
no need for a contract...

Hands in the air, everyone!

Cops? Nice work!

I told them:
"Make me pretty, I'm going on tour!"

Was it Leboeuf?

Have you got stitches?

Leboeuf and his boys,
the fucker hits hard!

Here comes Sébastien.

Is that him?

Yeah, it's him!

What's with the new look?

How can we call you "Hairboy"
with no hair?

A 5-hour drive
to find a new name.

-What? In that thing?
-Yeah.

A mover's van?
Thought we were touring.

Didn't have one with flowers on it?

Didier! What happened to you?

And you?
Butch cut like my balls.

Enough banter, we're late.

Who's he?

Where's Smiley?

10 seats!

2 for Seb and me, plus 8 for you.

-Who are you?
-I'm Dom, your tour manager.

-Where'd you find him?
-Dom is a pro.

Why'd you hire this crate?
We're 22!

I said 8, we're full, guys.

What's up?

-Can't board.
-Why?

-8 seats, we're full.
-Full? But we're more than 8!

Twenty-man bands don't exist.

I know it sucks,
but eight is the limit!

Fuck what the Grinch says!

Jack some cars
and meet you in Poitiers!

Confort Moderne, Poitiers!

Hey, guys!

Ahmed, take a bike!
Lose some weight.

-Make him pedal!
-Confort Moderne!

Nikoumouk!

Man, we gotta talk.

How big are your boots
to treat our homies that way?

Long live free rock!

Is he for real?

Who the hell is this dude?

-It's Smiley!
-Frankie!

Smiley!

Hey, babes! Everything okay?

Tag along,
we're playing in Poitiers!

I can't, guys,
I have to go to Los Angeles.

Nina is pregnant.

-Right now?
-Yeah.

So you're bailing
and leaving us with the Grinch?

What're you smoking?

-And the group, the album?
-Look at you, stars on tour!

Valem van rentals!
Solid as a rock!

More like stinks of feet!

You're in good hands.
Eh, Seb?

-Keep an eye.
-Don't leave us.

I was always the first.
That counts, no?

Don't do this to us!

I'm gonna be a dad!
And you couldn't care less.

That kid doesn't need you,
we do.

Look at my face!

-Have a blast!
-Screw it, Frankie.

Make a U-turn and follow us.

I'm with you guys, in spirit!

Keep smiling!

Give it here, hurry up!

-Hold on!
-Here.

Step on it, Mode!

Did the Grinch book the wrong venue?

Where are we?

Sounds like an abattoir.

Need a comb?

-What the fuck!
-Asshole!

-Motherfucker!
-I'm outta here.

Come on, let's bounce!

Hold on, what's up?

He was pissing on us!
We're not playing here.

All the youth centers want us
and you book this shithole?

What's your game?
Even in Mantes we got more respect.

Play for these bloodsuckers?

They don't even know rap exists!

So fucking show them!

Dom invited a promoter...

To hell with your punk promoter!
We play rap.

Come on, showtime. Let's go!

Let's go.

Are we from Saint-Denis or what?
93 rules!

Beat Maker Detonator!

I'm from Saint-Denis,
like my homies

I dance in every town,
on foot I get around

9 and 3 in my head,
the National Front is dead

The police to the slaughter house!

93, do the math,
I'm a psychopath!

Left Saint-Denis to travel the map

So catch my rap, it's on the beat!
My technique is freakin' unique!

Fuck a cop for Oussekine Malik!

Me, my name is Kast,
backslang, St-ka

We'll be rap heads
big as Chino's threads!

We fuck Le Pen
backstage with NTM

We hang out with them,
Joey and Shen

On the beat Yazid, do it again!

I don't lose, I learn
I learnt not to lose

This is 93!

We prefer numbers to letters

NTM, three letters that add up!

Reality may fail,
but my life is not for sale

I'm telling you straight
make no mistake

Choking their feelings,
money ruins people

Lo and behold
all is bought and sold

We want rock!

Real musicians!

Hey asshole, your mohawk is wonky!

Got no instruments?

Dude, we're the new face of rock!

Why's that prick
got his head in the ceiling?

-What's up, DJ?
-The ceiling's too low!

Wherever we go, it's Saint-Denis!

Like it or lump it, dickheads.

Pretty aggressive way to break the ice.

If they can win them,
they'll win anybody!

You're testing us?

No, teaching you.

This unjust reality
built upon money

On my face it's written
that I don't have a say

In the big cash carve up
forever kept that way

-Rich and poor
-For too long now...

DJ, cut!

We're not stopping for this joker.

Let him talk!

What do you want, Poppa?

-What did you say?
-Do that "Money ruins everything" one.

-Want me to do it again?
-Yeah.

-The old guy's right!
-Fuck Capitalism! Anarchy!

1,2,3... Fuck Capitalism!

Down with Capitalism!

Hit it, DJ!

Money ruins, money ruins,
money ruins people!

Pump it up!
93 NTM is rapping for you tonight!

93 Nikoumouk, baby!
All the way from Saint-Denis!

93, Baba!

Welcome to Rapline,
the Afro-centric magazine program.

Tonight's surprise guest,
the entire 93 NTM posse...

What does NTM stand for?

What does it stand for?

"Nice Tidy Mothers".

Inspired by their US counterparts

they are currently touring
their first rap album.

How'd your mom react to the name "NTM",
"Fuck Your Mother"?

I didn't tell her straight off.

Tonight, Saint-Denis has its say
with Kool Shen and Joey Starr

who front the group Suprême NTM.

Tonight, we're all 93!

I'm wearing your armband: "93 NTM".

Are you not a kind of symbol
for a fearful, marginalized youth

like previous rock and punk groups
Trust or Bérurier Noir?

Given that it's hard to rock in French
can we really rap in French?

Just out, their first album, Authentik,
has sold 70,000 copies.

We're direct and radical.

Some take it as aggressiveness,
but it's a way of seeing things.

NTM is the voice of a generation,
speaking its everyday truth.

Don't miss them.

Their carefully crafted rhymes
are to be taken seriously.

They rap them raw, homemade.

Since they signed
with a major record company

it seems NTM "Fuck Your Mother"
is kind of improper.

We'll just call them:
the "North Transmits the Message".

It's a lot less fun, but 93 NTM

is the topic of
"This Week's Youth".

100,000 albums sold,
with no radio play.

They're too scared...

Now, one of the best French rap groups,
perhaps the best, NTM...

-Christ, who farted?
-Who do you think?

Crazy bastard!

Mr Colt, vandal number 1.

Don't!

So! We strip off?

Outta the way!

Hey, guys!

Dry off, it's time to roll!

When will you stop fucking me over?

8 is not 20, get it?

I just paid 26 breakfasts!

Dom, quit breaking their balls.
I had four helpings.

And do you have to tag the walls
like pissing dogs?

You're not kids!

Know how much it'll cost me?

He wrecks the ceiling
instead of getting a chair.

They party with chicks all night
who don't even screw

while I pay for their breakfast!

-Who doesn't screw?
-You mean you don't screw!

Know the difference between
a tour manager and a toilet?

A toilet only has to deal
with one asshole at a time!

-Piss off!
-Chino!

What the fuck are you doing?

You heard what he said?

Take it easy!

NTM ends here, guys.

Dom, come back.

-Dom, wait.
-Don't let him go!

Are you out of your fucking mind?

You can all go back to Saint-Denis.

-What?
-Can't you see?

We'll never get anywhere
with morons like that!

We've got a job to do,
see you in Saint-Denis! Fuck me!

You get paid,
but we're treated like dogs?

Money comes first.
Loyalty my ass!

You don't want money?

You used us
when you needed muscle or applause.

Like the others, sell outs!

Damn right, Mode!

"NTM" was my idea.
I found the name.

We're in this together, we're bros!
What is this?

-Shut it!
-Who are you to talk?

You two!
Who asked you along?

All of you!
Who asked you to come?

On my contract it's not written
Chino, Mehdi, or my ass!

So go, beat it!

You think you're geniuses?

What have you got that I don't?

You wanna rap?

Go, it's that way. Run!

-Colt, come back!
-You didn't talk like that before.

-You too?
-Yeah, well I've changed!

-Some family photo!
-Change too, it feels good!

-What?
-One check and sold out!

-Watch it, or I'll slug you!
-Have you lost your minds, or what?

Like spoilt brats!

Don't talk shit,
we don't play without them.

Can't you see
you're fucking up everything? Stop!

-I'm fucking up everything?
-Yeah.

Then hitch a ride back.

And what'll you do all alone?
Sit on your bench?

-Watch what you say.
-What I say?

-You selfish bastard!
-Yeah, I'm selfish!

Selfish Didier Morville!
So fucking what?

I've no family, no friends!
So fucking what?

No friends?
Serious?

-Here.
-Then fuck you!

-You've ruined everything.
-Shut the fuck up!

Wanna see who's crazy?

It's you who don't understand.
So beat it!

I'm not going back to some bench!

Yeah, it's me.

It's Didier.
I'm calling from my hotel room.

I wanted to know if you...

received our album?

I asked Sony to send it to you
last week.

Did you get it?

Can you hear me?

And I also wanted to tell you...

my pissing-dog graffiti days are over.

Now, people ask me for autographs.

In the street.

Are you there? Can you hear me?

Dad? Hello?

All those with the itch to lie

Telling you whatever they like

Stop! Don't dare do that

'Cos to take you out,
no need for a contract

Hold on...
Cut, cut.

-Vivi, what's up?
-What do you mean?

-You're not in rhythm.
-Me? You guys aren't with me.

Why would we be?
'Cos you're his girl?

Bruno, watch out!
They're dissing your girl.

Those two thugs!

You're two hours late
and nothing's working.

What've you done
to my Portuguese baby?

What's up?

Got cold feet 'cos your homies
aren't behind you?

Don't worry, I'll fill in!

C'mon everybody!

Does it feel good
to fucking ruin everything?

If you don't like it
go back to your building site.

Give us all a break!

What would you do if I did?

Who do you think
has been setting all this up?

The show is a piece of shit
and you breeze in two hours late!

What do you want?
A medal?

Bossing people around
doesn't thrill you anymore?

Well get real, 'cos without me up there
you're invisible.

-Me, invisible?
-Yeah.

But you're a real champion.
Know why?

'Cos god knows
how you'd shine without me

to cover for your fuckups.

'Cos when I mess up,
where are you?

I can count on who?
Gimme one line from one of my verses.

Should I whisper in your ear?

Whisper this... Okay?

Vivi, where are you going?

I'm tired of your lovers' tiffs!

Sure, honey, if you're tired.

It's your best choreography ever.
Don't change a thing!

-Talk nice to her...
-Don't touch me.

-I just said...
-You're not my dad!

If I go on stage without you
I won't lose my cool.

You're acting like two kids!

That's peace, unity and having fun?

Who asked you?
Am I talking to you?

No, so shut the fuck up!

Go take care of your records!

I'm outta here! Fend for yourself.

Crazy bastard!

NTM! NTM!

Well? No news of Bruno?

Or Vivi?

Fucking hell.

We're dead.

Goddammit!
If it's not one it's the other!

Chill.

-Okay guys, on stage!
-Without Bruno and Vivi?

It's showtime. You gotta go!

Okay guys, let's go!

You're on.

Joey, showtime!

Joey, do you hear me?

Villeurbanne, do I hear you?

Are you with me or not?

A little louder.

So I know you're there.

For those who still don't know
we're from the hood too.

93, Saint-Denis!

Let's hear it for Saint-Denis!

Like in the other hoods

we're constantly
beaten up by the police.

If you have been,
raise a finger to those sons of bitches.

There you go.

What do we say to them?

-Fuck the police!
-The motherfucking police.

-What do we do?
-Go for it.

When I was in the army,

a captain told me my half-breed ass
would end up in jail.

Get started!

He forgot to say the army would make me
an alcoholic and a junkie.

Where's Kool Shen?

Go for it.

He's white, I'm black, keep going...

Yeah, right.
Kool Shen is white.

Kool Shen is white
and I'm black.

I don't know the rest.
And so what?

Why are you booing?

You wanna talk for me?

Then come up on stage!

See how goddamn brave you are.

Which of you fuckers
wants to take me on?

Kool Shen! Kool Shen!

Only outworn racists
play on difference

Multi-ethnic, but one culture

That's the way, for sure

Clear sighted, eyes wide open

'Cos I aim to put a muzzle on

All the so-called prophets

The advocates of a perfect race

It's plain to see, I rest my case

For Le Pen 10%
is a slap in the face

So take it as given
whatever your race

Black, white, red, brown, yellow

I'm talking to the youth
rising for the truth

Against tyrants who are an outrage
to this new page

I'm white he's black,
history's talking back

Black and white,
history needs a rewrite!

Black and white,
history needs a rewrite

Let me hear you!

Okay Shen,
I'm gonna take it higher

Up the volume,
my brain's on fire

'Cos everywhere I look,
I see fakers

They who pretend
to spit on Le Pen

Fueling more hate,
the same again

Puppets of the pseudo prophets

But don't get taken in

Whether you're white, Arab or black

NTM is pure impact
with zero tact

Outsmarting
the enemies of liberty

Sons of bitches blinded
by outworn bigotry

Pump it up...

So check this out

Without any false propriety,
a multiracial society

I'm black, he's white, pal

Yet the blood in our veins is identical

I'm white he's black,
history's talking back

Black and white,
history needs a rewrite!

93 connection!
Let me hear you!

Let's hear it for 93 Nikoumouk!

For Beat Maker Detonator
DJ S and the posse!

Let's hear it for my man Yazid,
my man Kast!

Let's hear it for Lazer,

for Reak...

Let's hear it for Lady V.

The divine Lady V!

-Let's hear it for 93.
-93 Nikoumouk, baby!

Farrakhan or Le Pen
Same hate, stop!

Over the top!

Danger, don't let their designs
poison your mind

Their words, intentions,
backward notions

You fanatics
make no sense

White meets black,
so take offence

In France, the problem shouldn't be
The US is not always good to copy

Multiracial, that's our society

So act together to create unity

-'Cos for far too long now
-In this old world

Color's been a frontier,
another barrier

So I declare war
on all that I abhor

And one by one I take them out

Fascists, skinheads,
apartheid, the ghetto

Black and white,
history needs a rewrite!

Black and white,
history needs a rewrite...

Yeah, let's hear you!

93 Nikoumouk!

NTM, good evening.

Your first albumAuthentik
is just out.

You're headlining the Paris Zenith

a first for a French rap group...

Before us, rap didn't exist in France.

Right.

So, tell me...

what inspired you to write this album?

Well, we wrote the album

to call out how politicians
have abandoned the suburbs

and the youth in general.

So that was our inspiration,
to call out

that wait-and-see attitude.

-Can we say that?
-Sure.

That wait-and-see attitude.

And you, Mr Minister
what's your take on all this?

You must admit,
what they say matters.

They are anarchists.
It's nothing new.

It's normal.

But you make money
selling records?

Yeah.

-We work, make some dough...
-We get paid.

So why not reinvest this "dough"
in the suburbs?

Come on.

Who do you take me for,
Mother Teresa?

I wish you were
a bit more like her,

it might change things
for the better.

Through our songs
we give more than you do.

-For sure.
-But aren't you missing the point?

The problem is,
the kids in the suburbs feel rejected

only to get beaten by the cops.

Why don't we talk about that?

But if that doesn't change

you're in for a lot worse
than the last riots,

NTM or no NTM.

Don't forget the darkness of the ghetto

When night falls

The kids from the hood
do not fear the shadows

Like outlaws
there they hive

Having no other choice
but to live parallel lives

Illicit dealings, survival at best

As if it could buy the road to success

But who does what?
And where is the State?

This attack was clearly deliberate

Left by the wayside,
these kids of the nation

For France will be
a new amputation

Because when the damage is done
the party is over

No more laughter,
I fear for the future

But how would you
unsay what I say?

I'm not making anything up,
despite what you read

My words use no embellishment,
no romance

I know what we think
can influence

So what solution do we propose?

A stitch in time saves nine
as the saying goes

But if we can heal
in these times so tense

Remember the damage
will be at our expense

Fuck da police!

-Hey, Didier.
-Hey, man.

Everyone, hands held high!

Get it on if you're satisfied!

On the right, the left,
up front and behind!

All together, we say:
Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Everyone!

Everyone...

-You start.
-No, I follow you tonight.

They're in the groove,
it'll be a great show.

Dom...

The road ends here.

What?

-Listen...
-No, you listen!

Know how much this tour cost me?

Not just in terms of my reputation,
but money?

Even with tonight,
I won't break even.

I recognize all you've done for us,
but you're too much of a purist.

-You're just a kid.
-Terror Seb!

That's what they call me now.

-I don't get it.
-No, you don't.

They're at a tipping point.

It's time to take it up a level
and not with you.

So you signed a new deal
behind my back, end of story.

It was great to work with you.

Don't take it so bad.
It'll be a nice show.

You're right, keep it fun.
Stop, you'll make me cry!

Okay, I gotta go.

No hard feelings?

6,000 people bought tickets

to come and see us, man!

Don't start shitting yourself,
too late for that.

This is it, man.

It's hard to imagine.

You start out,
writing in your bedroom...

-Now they listen in theirs.
-Is that hip-hop?

It's total hip-hop, bro!
I'm telling you.

We did it together.

Can you do me a favor,
check if my dad's here?

-Why don't you?
-Don't want to see him.

-Then why'd you invite him?
-Will you or not?

Sure, I'll go.

In the guest area, if he's here.

Well?

Didn't come?
Well, fuck him.

I invite you and you don't show...

There's a woman,
says she's your mother.

-One of my dad's dates?
-No. She says her name is Yvette.

Yvette?

Tell Yvette I have no mom,
she's a liar...

-And she can go fuck her mother?
-Right.

Hey, Didier...

Go see her, please.

Can you hold this?

Told you, you're my brother.

6,000 people, man.

You ready?

Coming, buddy.

I'm coming!

Hey, Shen?

-Are you coming out of there?
-Coming.

-Show time, guys!
-Coming.

AUTHENTIK

IN MEMORY OF LADY V, PATRICIA SULLÉ,
MÉO, RICHARD AUJARD

AND ALL THOSE WHO DIED TOO YOUNG

Whether you come
from 95, 75, 91 or 92,

know that we all
stand for the hood!

Saint-Denis! Saint-Denis!

Dammit, you're putting me off
with that big fat head of yours!

At least you have a text to read!

Not with you sticking
your big head in...

Oh, right...

I hadn't copped on!

I wasn't sure if it was a take or not.

It was. She said no cuts, keep going.