New York En Décembre Lyrics in English Bigflo & Oli

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Below, I translated the lyrics of the song New York En Décembre by Bigflo & Oli from French to English.

These lyrics have verified word for word translations. Click any lyric word to see the translation and hear the pronunciation!

I wanted to quit my career

Oli told me it was too early

After the tour

I had to reboot myself

Like a robot

I took the penalty kick

Ow-ow

I only hit the post

I know how to hide my game well

Like every lottery winner

Young caiman, we want the bags

Made of croc skin

I'm too hot

My pretty Rolly

Has shocked the gauchos

New rich, I'm reading a book

Sitting in my Togo

Little rapper

Doing good shows

Isn't just starting mosh pits

Yo, the world's ugly

They're all in cahoots

It empties our pockets

Stay upbeat

Don't miss the boat, yes

Yo, know

That I never mince words

The beat is filthy

I should wash it

I'm coming back, like your ex

On a winter night

Like a father the day

His son breaks through

Yes-yes

What's my place

In the universe

I ask myself too many questions

In my head, there's Julien Lepers

I still don't have the body

To threaten

I try to find

A verse in front of my coffee

You don't listen to me anymore

You've already replaced me

I think about it while eating

My croissants

The brand offers 300

It's not enough

Paname, it's raining too much

I'm heading to L.A

I'm already too famous

You won't see me on TV anymore

I think it's the demon in me

That we had to seal back

I'm cracked

I still hear that voice

That tells me "do it"

Seen e-e-everything in this game

Nothing impresses me anymore

I do laundry

I buy retro games

That I collect

New apartment, I had to put

A fake name on the intercom

I'd like to go back to Tokyo

Become nobody again

New house with a garden

I think I'm getting old

You thought we were joking

Actually you saw, it was dead serious

A cash deal is tempting

But the more diamonds I have

The more I understand

That it's time

That's precious

Feels like I've already written

This verse in another life

Strange times, I type

My manuscript on the computer

You'll find metaphors

I didn't think of

Like a French teacher

Flo wants to quit rap

I wanna start it

I know you hear the power

Accept the slap you feel

You'll never put the fire out

With gasoline

It's not the criticism

That hurts you

It's the thought it might be true

That makes it hurtful

The climb will make you forget

That you're gonna come back down

You dream of being the painting

Me the frame

At the next expo

You'll be in the basement

Me where people look

It's the Louvre

That glorifies the Mona Lisa

It's awful, but

At a yard sale

We'd take the real one

For a fake

I've got thirteen years of rap

Under my belt

I've stacked the jackpot

I've sold packs

In Fnac shelves

Tough luck, if you freak out backstage

Give back your pass

It's no LOL here

King of five-a-side

But crap at Camp des Loges

Beat it

If you came as a tourist

To make cash

You're building the bars

Of a rotten cage

A mirage for a new rich

In a frenzy

This game's a marathon

Take your chance and see

Still not arrived

And I've never stopped

For a drink

Too far, I toast to my rival

I spill my drink

On my brand's sweatshirt

At my festival

They pretend not to see

The crowd killing itself

Like Travis Scott

In front of his fans

Or the West in front of Palestine

Did you like these lyrics?

SONG MEANING

Bigflo & Oli turn a confessional diary into a rap postcard with “New York En Décembre.” The verses jump from backstage fatigue to front-row glory, showing how dizzy a rapid rise can feel: one minute he nails sold-out concerts, the next he “hits only the post” on a penalty shot. Luxury watches, croc-skin bags, cash deals and new apartments sparkle throughout the lyrics, yet every brag is quickly shadowed by self-doubt. The brothers joke about quitting, dream of hiding in Tokyo, and wonder where they fit “in the universe,” all while rebooting like robots after tour life.

Behind the witty punchlines lies a deeper critique of the game itself. Bigflo lists the traps of fame— critics who might be right, fans who move on fast, artists who chase clout and build golden cages for themselves. He reminds us that time, not diamonds, is the real treasure, and that success is a climb followed by an inevitable descent. World issues flash by, from consumerism to Palestine, suggesting that while rap might feel like a personal marathon, it still runs through a messy global landscape. The song is both a flex and a therapy session, celebrating resilience as much as it questions the worth of the prize.

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Bigflo & Oli New York En Décembre Lyrics