I see a family man, I see a man in love
I start with the essentials, as a rigorous author
I grew up in the suburbs, I sang it a cappella
And this self-reflection could even stop there

I've become a bit of a poet, not really a writer
I've left some useful texts and a lot of vain writings
I have rhymes in the open air, a somewhat unsteady silhouette
To keep my balance, I cling to the vocal cords

Unclassifiable discipline, so let's say lyricist
An improbable career, sometimes parodied
Inflammable inspiration, hungry optimism
Honorable stories from infamous neighborhoods

From the artistic fiber, I hadn't seen the signals
It was later, prolific, that I took up the pens
I flirted with the idea that my poems would wander
I write therefore I am, and I am Grand Corps Malade

I'm a bit of a poet but I don't know my classics well
I found my models in the music industry
I haven't opened many poetry collections
But I've opened my ears in bohemian atmospheres

I contributed without foreseeing it to popularize slam
This oratory art, in bars, that caresses the soul
I wrote as an emergency hundreds of quatrains
I wrote about my sufferings to silence the sorrow

Victories in tournaments, forgetting the sneaky ones
It's for me, that's why I knew how to bet on myself
I've laid my texts everywhere, I've had a tenacious voice
In bobo bars, in disgusting squats

I met musicians who casually
Put notes on my words, we made songs
From the search for stage fright, I became a slave
And I crave the stage like you crave a joint

I love the stress of my concerts, not the glitz of my peers
What success confers, often I prefer the opposite
From showbiz are born practices that will not be my choice
I won't spit in the soup but I won't take it twice

I write when I feel good, I write when I feel bad
When life disappoints me a bit and when everything is normal
I only write for others, I want to be heard
I write to understand the world, especially when it's tense

Music is a very individual collective art
I write about my reflection like a duo and a duel
My writings are optimistic, I don't have to force myself
But my light side and my dark side have not divorced

I often have a cheerful eye, sometimes a sad look
In the norm or off-piste, is this the fate of the artist?
"Artist", I still don't really know if I know this term
I feel like a cowboy still surprised by his western

I write about the present, very rarely about the future
But without being oppressive, sometimes the past inspires me
I thank him at the caesura, with his airs of magic
I rhyme my present with my nostalgia

I write joyful verses and depressing rhymes
I've emptied so many pens and printer cartridges
I have some ash-colored hair but incandescent inspiration
Despite the wrinkles on my forehead, I have a teenage pen.

I write in my phone, choral poems
In notebooks, journals and then, I write orally
I've written less than some but much more than the average
And I hope to keep this rhythm when my pen is the oldest

I write about feelings and intimate thoughts
I write about society when it seems legitimate to me
About our France sometimes tired and surrounded
When power doesn't care about people, my ink is concerned

I also write about enthusiasm and great potentials
About the lights of the sky, the essential values
I'm curious, I love people, I see the glass half full
It's not a legend, I see the dream within reach

From my life in the suburbs, I've kept a kind of ethic
From my life as an athlete, I've kept the team spirit
I have a few existences that I remember every day
From my reckless life, I've kept scars

Back then, out of modesty, or not to believe in despair
I managed my sadness and cried away from looks
I think I didn't want to add drama to drama
Now, I'm not insensitive but I've exhausted my quota of tears

In this life, I came, I lost, I won
And I am what I am thanks to what I've lived
I mentally compensate for muscular absences
I totally thank the popular neighborhoods

I've rubbed shoulders with the poor, the bobos, the armored
The wrecked smiles, the distinguished greetings
I prefer the scarred, the rebels, the weird
I can live without my suburb but not without my suburbanites

It's with them that I laughed, thought and grew up
I feel more wise, I'm not Gandhi either
But I often observe around, silence as armor
And I take so much distance that I often have my back against the wall

From my tumultuous youth, I've kept the art of the joke
I often try to hold back because not everyone is a fan
I've probably matured a bit but to tell the truth
I still have a little problem with too much authority

I have so many projects that I won't have enough of a life
I would need to reincarnate to fulfill all my desires
I want to visit the other side of the rainbow
But at the same time, I want to get bored because boredom gives advice

I'm 20 in my head, 120 in my body
But both, fortunately, often agree
To open my eyes, ears and hands
Find a common rhythm and trace my path

I keep my child's eyes in the face of everything that happens to me
And to keep this chance, I apply and activate myself
A huge privilege, without the light distorting
I feel it in every hormone, I have an extraordinary job

But even at the zenith, I won't show off
You've understood, my real first job is being a dad
My two sons and my wife, they're my first passion
Seeing them laugh at my jokes, it's the best ovation

I see a family man, I see a man in love
I end with the essential, as a rigorous author
I grew up in the suburbs, I sang it a cappella
And this self-reflection will really stop here

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