La petite voix Lyrics (English Translation) – OrelSan

Read the full La petite voix (English Translation) lyrics by OrelSan along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Orelsan’s music, you can also explore SAMA and Tellement d’amis, two other songs by Orelsan.

[Single Verse]
Look at the truth, what you’ve become
See what you could have been, you’ve lost yourself
Stop pretending to be a straight man, nobody’s fooled
You’ve become what you hated at first
You’re just a piece of s*it, my little Aurélien, honestly, you disappointed me
Like you disappointed your parents when you failed your studies
But they can all go to hell, honestly, my little Aurélien
I’m the only one you need to listen to, honestly, my little Aurélien
Look where trying to please everyone has led you
They’re stealing your oxygen, you feel like you have a bar in your lungs
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom, it’s your heart racing
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom, Another panic attack
You don’t dare face your little problems so you hide
And you go to bed like during the controversies because you’re a coward
I always knew you were a coward but look what you’re wasting
You have all the things you dreamed of at half your age but
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom, little b!tch
You’re just a fraud, you’re nothing, you’re hot air, you’re just a mirage
We don’t know if you’re the brain or the village idiot
We don’t know if you’re Mélenchon or LVMH’s wh*re
We don’t know if you’re woke, if you’re reactionary, if you’re left-wing, if you’re right-wing
You play the environmentalist and piss us off with your brand
We just know you’re fake like when you sing off-key
When you try to be a rapper, fake like your acting False
It’s obvious you love cash, stop acting like you’re simple, false
It’s obvious you’ve got an ego, stop acting humble, false
With your emo, lesbian, provincial teenage fringe
You should have given up rap instead of giving up Gringe, huh
In your songs, you’re a rebel who speaks the truth, huh
In interviews, you’re just a piece of s*it who keeps dodging, huh
You don’t talk about the real issues, you don’t dare criticize anything
Because all you want is to sell your limited editions
You’re just a derivative product, you’re just a b!tch in disguise
Your lyris are just poorly recited clichés
You have no commitment, no honor, no convictions
You’re just a frigid wh*re who never dares to take Position

Civilization, ba*tard, it’s a disaster
You make preachy music like your teacher dad
You make music for kids, for housewives
You make music to put Victoires de la Musique awards on your shelves
You ignored your loved ones for years to build a career
And you make music like you want to sleep with your mother
To think you made all those sacrifices to make s*it
I want to slap an innocent kid when I hear “La Quête”
It’s over, you’re down, you get crushed on every feature
You don’t like current music, you mix up all the artists
You refuse tons of features because deep down, you’re racist
You’ve brought more white people into rap than a white supremacist
Your audience is cops, teachers, accountants
Y There are so many white people in your audience, it’s like being in the mountains
There are so many victims in your audience, it reeks of Prozac
There are so many white people in your audience, it reeks of cheese
Your audience is disgusting, there aren’t any decent girls
There are only lost souls who dress like bums
Who take the worst pictures of you with their big d-fingers
Since they can’t afford a decent phone
OrelFan, haha, let me laugh, ba*tard
Look at the state of your fanbase, it’s a disaster
A bunch of s*its who know nothing about music, who don’t like rap
When it’s not sung by some little clown in a Carhartt
Otherwise, it reminds them that they’re afraid of getting mugged
I wipe my ass with their fan art, their words Desperate
All they do is criticize, it’s like they don’t want to like you
Like they’re just waiting for you to slip up so they can burn your CDs
And don’t pretend to love your city, it’s a mess
It’s dead, that’s why they call you “Caennais”
It’s full of hicks you can’t even stand
Yeah, you’re going to ruin your city like the Mbappés
Speaking of ruining, we need to talk about your b!tch
What’s the point of making it big if you’re sleeping with that?
I said “b!tch” but it’s worse: she’s your wife
What’s the point of being rich if you’re only going to buy cheap stuff?
With success, it’s like you’re hot
But you, you’re living a s*itty life with some trashy Japanese girl
What’s the point of making it big if you never get laid?
The last time you got laid, you ba*tard, you made a baby
Besides, that’s the ultimate trick to trap you
Before, she controlled you, now, she’s going to bleed you dry
All that to give birth to a privileged piece of s*it
With an absent father incapable of raising it
If I’m the baby, get out, Nanako, get out
The Normans, get out, France, get out
The fanbase, get out, your career, get out
Avnier, get out, Ablaye and Skread, get out
Healthy living, get out, conscience, get out
Your family, get out, OrelSan, get out
Basically, everyone get out except me
Seriously, fu*k San, now, make way for Sama

[Outro]
Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama
Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sama, Sam