La menthe vénéneuse

Fill her, oceanize her with your fluid
French streets are not what you think they are
You wanted… you wanted a French connection
And a bitch barking at you all night long
She taste the smell of your death
You smell the fragrance of her poison
Aids given has a present
Caught in the fingers of poison mint
She is the graal of those horny bastards
And you’re an apple without a skin
She is the plagues of those alleys
And you the rotten fruit of her revenge
You can go limp, you swine
Your final countdown is starting now
She taste the smell of your death
You smell the fragrance of her poison
Aids given has a present
Caught in the fingers of poison mint