All the children from my ghetto/suburb and beyond
And all the best products of wrath
"Stalagmite faces" and pretty chicks
Pimpleheads - in other words, family - are there
Yes all the children from my neighbourhood and beyond
And all the best products of concrete
Some who did not want to pay five euros (lit.: 30 French francs) entrance fee
Have invaded the stage, and the concert hall
There are thugs with "stone heads"
Those who are as sentimental as hooligans
Are waiting for us to spark a big bad noise
Waiting for volcanoes to come out of the stage
And that's when
We put off our shirts
Put off our shirts
All the children from my ghetto/suburb and beyond
And all the best products of wrath
Some ugly ones, with faces as round as skittles
And rednecks - in a word, family - are there
Yes all the children from my neighbourhood and beyond
And all the best products of concrete
Some who wanted to take advantage of the unrest
Others who had not "slammed" (ie improvised rap lyrics) for ages
Suddenly stage fright came to say hello in the dressing room
Oh mom this clock is going so fast
Come on guys, you have promised the sun
We can tell you we're not sleepy tonight
We're going to put off the shirt
Put off the shirt...
All the little Parisian boys and the damaged faces,
And the ugly guys (lit. pickaxe faces) as much as the pet boys
Have lit up the ambiance by jumping upside down
Head down, and it were no empty words, but Oh
We can hear them shout "Come on, don't play the affected,
And don't be capricious, for we don't care,
We've not come here like in a monastery
We've not come here to break our voices, but to (dance/play dance enough to) break our arteries
That's the way with us and that's the same elsewhere
All the best products of this ugly world
Was here, just for fun
And this very day I can tell you we had fun
We're going to
Put off the shirt
Put off the shirt...