
“Roi” turns the spotlight on self-acceptance and unapologetic confidence. Bilal Hassani sings in both French and English to tell the world: I am me, and that will never change. The lyrics describe someone who refuses to squeeze into society’s little boxes, whether it is about style, identity, or dreams. Even if critics talk, stare, or try to clip his wings, he still steps out, laughs, and keeps his invisible crown firmly in place. The repeated line “I’m not rich but I’m shining bright” reminds us that true royalty comes from inner light, not money or titles.
When Bilal closes his eyes, he becomes a king in his own kingdom of possibility, and he invites listeners to do the same. The song is a bold reminder that we each choose our hairstyle, our friends, and our path, so no outside voice can define who we are. “Roi” is more than a pop anthem. It is a glitter-covered manifesto whispering: Dream big, own your crown, and never let anyone dull your shine!
Ever had someone who acts all tough in public but texts you heart-eye emojis in private? That is the messy secret Bilal Hassani spills in Fais Beleck. The French pop star turns the dance floor into a courtroom where he puts a swaggering lover on trial. “Fais beleck” is North-African-influenced slang for “watch out”, and Bilal repeats it like a flashing warning light: own up, or face the fallout!
Across punchy beats and bilingual lyrics, Bilal calls out the guy who flirts all night, lies all day, and hides their romance to look “solid” in front of his crew. The singer is done with secrecy, drama, and “conneries” (nonsense). Either the boy stops pretending and admits their love, or Bilal is ready to drop the whole story for everyone to hear. It is a playful yet empowering anthem about self-respect, honesty, and refusing to be anyone’s hidden toy.
“Tom” is Bilal Hassani’s vibrant tribute to the quiet kid who finally steps into the spotlight. The French pop star paints a cinematic picture of Tom—once the shy boy hiding at the back of the classroom, now twirling across the dance floor with radiant confidence. Every beat celebrates his transformation: elegant moves, an unbreakable smile, and a newfound pride that lights up the room. Bilal’s upbeat vocals and pulsing production invite us to cheer Tom on, showing that even the most reserved hearts can burst into color when they feel seen.
Below the glittering surface lies a touching message of empathy and support. The singer gently asks Tom to share what weighs on his heart, promising a safe space free of judgment. Through affirmations like “Ça ira” (“It’ll be alright”) and the repeated offer “J’voudrais t’ouvrir mes bras” (“I’d like to open my arms to you”), Bilal reminds listeners that acceptance and kindness can help anyone overcome fear. “Tom” is more than a dance-floor anthem; it is a warm embrace for anyone who has ever felt invisible, urging us all to lift each other up and celebrate our true selves.
“Papa Maman” feels like opening a secret journal and reading a deeply honest letter to Mom and Dad. Bilal Hassani sings about moments when everything seems to fall apart: the nausea, the tears, the mirror that “terrifies” him with a blurry future. Yet, even while confessing Je touche le fond (I’ve hit the bottom), he keeps repeating Je vous en veux pas (I don’t blame you). This refrain turns the song into both an apology and a reassurance. He yearns for the simplicity of childhood, remembers the hope and ambition he once had, and clings to the love that still holds him up.
Underneath the vulnerability beats a pulse of quiet resilience. The singer stretches out a hand, inviting someone to grab it, determined to keep living and to be thankful even if tomorrow were the end. “Papa Maman” is, ultimately, a reminder that asking for help is courageous, that love remains a lifeline, and that a single promise — J’irai mieux demain (I’ll feel better tomorrow) — can keep the light on when the night feels longest.
Je Danse Encore is Bilal Hassani’s sparkling love letter to resilience. The young French pop star opens with a playful, slightly chaotic car scene that mirrors the everyday anxieties we all feel. Yet, the moment the beat kicks in, he trades fear for movement, turning stress into a carefree groove. Throughout the song he speaks directly to his maman, the person who has always seen the best in him, forgiven his missteps, and encouraged him to leap over life’s “toute petite marche… hop.”
What follows is an emotional cocktail of gratitude and determination. Bilal admits “le monde est fou”—the world is crazy—“mais moi, je danse encore”: he keeps on dancing. This simple refrain becomes a mantra of hope. He acknowledges the pain (“comme j’ai bobo, maman”), but instead of surrendering, he dances to celebrate his mother’s love, to shield her from tears, and to prove that joy can survive even the wildest storms. By the time the song ends, “Je Danse Encore” feels like an invitation to all of us: cherish those who lift you up, face chaos with courage, and—above all—never stop dancing.
Bilal Hassani’s upbeat pop track "Jaloux" is a sparkling comeback to every insult hurled at him. In the verses, faceless critics attack his masculinity, his singing, and his sexuality, wishing he would quit or even disappear. But the chorus flips the power dynamic: Bilal stands tall, chanting that these words come from jaloux — jealous people who can never be satisfied and love to tear others down.
Rather than crumble, he turns their negativity into fuel for self-confidence. The pulsing beat and repetitive hook invite listeners to shout along, transforming pain into pride. "Jaloux" is ultimately a celebration of resilience, queer visibility, and the liberating joy of ignoring haters while staying unapologetically yourself.
Swipe left on heartbreak! Bilal Hassani’s “Dead Bae” is a bold breakup anthem where the French pop star turns the end of a relationship into a moment of self-celebration. The singer calls the police to report an unusual “crime”: they have killed their own romance. Instead of mourning, Bilal revels in the freedom, declaring that waiting around for a prince charming is over. With catchy chants like “solo ou rien!” (solo or nothing), the track shouts self-love, independence, and the refusal to settle for half-hearted affection.
Across the verses, Bilal lists everything they gave—time, patience, second chances—and admits it was too much for someone who never deserved it. Now, the ex is a “dead bae,” officially erased after a playful countdown to three. The upbeat production and cheeky lyrics turn what could be a sad story into a fearless declaration: “Talk to me and I’ll leave you on read. Ignore me and I couldn’t care less!” In short, “Dead Bae” is your go-to soundtrack for cutting loose toxic ties and dancing your way into single, sparkling freedom.
Bilal Hassani's "La Question" is a powerful anthem about self-acceptance and rejecting societal norms. He starts by admitting, "C'était quoi la question? Je n'ai pas la réponse" [What was the question? I don't have the answer], which really sets the tone for his journey of figuring things out for himself. He talks about the pressure he feels, but also his complete lack of contempt for his own body, saying, "Je n'ai pas une once de mépris et de dégout pour ce corps que je sculpte" [I don't have an ounce of contempt and disgust for this body that I sculpt]. It's a bold statement of self-love!
He's not afraid of what people say, ignoring the insults that "sortent des plaques d'égouts" [come out of the sewer grates]. Bilal also touches on how he used to wonder what people were laughing at when they saw him, but now he's learned to heal his own wounds. He declares, "J'n'ai plus peur de grand-chose" [I'm not afraid of much anymore], and that dance is his therapist. He's ready to break free from any boxes people try to put him in, singing, "Je casserai toutes les cages dans lesquelles vous m'enfermerez" [I will break all the cages in which you will lock me up]. And my favorite part? He says if he had to choose a gender, he'd choose the wrong one, because ultimately, he doesn't know, and he's learned to move past it. If you don't like it, well, he has a pretty blunt message for you! It's all about owning who you are.
Fais le vide feels like hitting the pause button on a video that is stuck on fast-forward. Bilal Hassani paints a picture of life in overdrive, where we plunge into the future without a glance behind us and end up running in slow motion while everything else blurs past. Dreams slip through our fingers, we tiptoe over broken glass, and nights stretch on without sleep—yet the song reminds us that living only halfway is not enough.
The chorus bursts in like fresh oxygen: Fais le vide ! Empty your mind, lift your head high, flash a rebellious middle finger to doubt, and breathe deeply. Tune out the voices that stand still, shut your eyes, and dance as though the world is yours alone. This electro-pop anthem is a sparkling pep talk, urging us to break from the scripted path, claim the present moment, and stride boldly toward the life we really want.
"Marathon" is about falling into a relationship that feels both new and completely natural at once. Bilal Hassani describes a partner who impresses him in every photo, whose presence still makes his eyes light up even though things already feel settled and easy.
He compares love to a marathon: something you commit to for the long run, one step at a time, rather than a quick sprint. Even the surprising, "unusual" feeling of being truly comfortable with someone becomes proof that this one is built to last.
The chorus keeps returning to that image, "the marathon of love," paired with the feeling of flying and the reassurance that it's not going anywhere. It's a light, romantic song about trusting a relationship that keeps going the distance.
In "Il ou Elle," which translates to "He or She," Bilal Hassani explores themes of self-doubt, freedom, and identity. The song opens with a feeling of anxiety, comparing the singer's self-perception to a "dead leaf" (feuille morte) while longing to be a vibrant "flower" (fleur). This sets the stage for a journey of transformation and self-acceptance.
The chorus is a powerful declaration of breaking free from labels. The line "Ce soir c'est il ou bien c'est elle / T'façon c'est du pareil au même" ("Tonight it's he or it's she / Anyway it's all the same") celebrates a fluid identity that goes beyond traditional gender roles. Whether expressing themselves with "fishnet stockings" (des bas résilles) or with "poems" (des poèmes), the singer asserts their right to be who they are without asking for permission, defiantly embracing all the "seasons" of life.
Bilal Hassani’s “Control” feels like stepping into a neon-lit maze at 2 a.m., where every beat pulls you deeper into a party that’s both thrilling and unsettling. The French singer invites us to follow him through crowded rooms filled with strange smells, hypnotic lights, and hands that keep tugging him back when he tries to leave. His bilingual lyrics mirror the push-and-pull: in French he admits “j’aimerais partir” (I’d like to leave), then in English he confesses “I want it right now.” That tension creates an atmosphere of temptation, excitement, and mounting anxiety, all wrapped in glossy pop production.
At its core, the song is a relatable story about losing—and craving—control. Hassani’s narrator tumbles from curiosity to panic as the night blurs, describing the feeling of being “possédé” (possessed) and “high,” yet unable to escape the dance floor’s spell. The repetitive chorus “I lost all control” becomes both a warning and a release, capturing how easy it is to get swept away by peer pressure, intoxicants, or the desperate need to belong. By the final refrain, listeners are left with a powerful question: is surrendering to the moment liberating, or is it a dangerous illusion? Either way, “Control” turns that inner conflict into an irresistible, cinematic ride.