My France with me it speaks extremely, it lives with end of dreams,
It lives in group, speaks about village and hates the rules,
It dries the courses, generally for nothing foutre,
It often plays foot under the sun of the Coke in the gourd,
It is the hip-hop which makes it dance on the tracks,
Sometimes it kiffe a little rock'n'roll, ouais, if the melody is sad,
It smokes of the cigs and a little ****, but never hard drugs,
Heroin, cocaine and equal ace refuse,
Often in war against the administrations,
Their mechanical BEP will not make it possible to be owner,
Then it demene and sells **** with of Bourges,
But the **** its brings back to the mother a little puffs out, ouais.
Because the family it is the love and that the love is done rare
She fights after a fashion to put them at the variation,
She has values, principles and codes,
She lies down per hour of the cock, because she spends all her nights to the phon.
She appears faignante but in the content, she does not waste time,
Some fear it because the media are baited to make of it a dunce,
And if my France with me develops it is of course for better reigning,
It is interiorized and avoided being bled. Not…

It is not my France with me this deep France
That which us fout shame and would like that one plunges
My France with me does not live in the lie
With the heart and the rage, with the light, not in the shade

Refrain (x2)

My France with me it speaks in SMS, works by MSN,
Reconciles themselves in email and meets in MMS,
It moves in skate, scoot or the racing car,
Basile Boli is a myth and Zinedine his synonym.
It, is not necessary for it to believe that one hates it but it lies us,
Because our parents have worked for 20 years for the same amount,
It gave us wings but the sky is V.I.P.,
It does not matter what they say it can manage a company.
It lives in the American hour, KFC, MTV Base
Foot Locker, Mac C and 50 Hundreds.
It, in fact p' tits guys play tennis shoe with step of hours,
Who dreams to be Tony Parker on the parquet floor of Spurs,
It, in fact p' tites women manage between the love,
courses and muddles,
Who listen of Raï, Rnb and of Zouk.
My France with me mixes, ouais, it is an arc in sky,
It disturbs you, I know it, because it does not want to be for model.

REFRAIN (x2)

My France with me it has halls and rooms where it is locked up,
It is funny and Jamel Debbouze could be his/her brother,
It repaints wall them and the trains because they are dull
It plait with foutre the **** because one pushes it nothing to make.
It needs sport and dance to evacuate,
It at the end of its madnesses to the risk will commit suicide,
But my France with me it saw, at least it opens it, at least it laughs,
And refuses to subject itself to this France which would like that one moves.
My France with me, it is not theirs, that which votes extreme,
That which banishes the young people, anti-rap on FM,
That which is believed in Texas, that which with fear of our bands,
That which venerates Sarko, intolerant and awkward.
That which looks at Julie Lescaut and regrets the time of the Chorus-singers,
Who lets burst the poor, and puts his own parents at the old people's home,
Not, my France with me it is not theirs which celebrates the Beaujolais wine,
And which claims to have been made kiss by the arrival of the immigrants,
That which which been able the racism but which makes pretence be opened,
This hypocritical France which east can be under my window,
That which thinks which thinks that the police force did its work always well,
That which scrapes the testicles with table by looking at Laurent Gerra,
Not, it is not my France with me, this deep France…
Then can be that one disturbs but our values will overcome…
And if one is citizens, then with the weapons youth,
My France with me will hold head to them, until they respect us.