Sacré Bordel Lyrics in English Bigflo & Oli

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Sacré Bordel by Bigflo & Oli from French to English.
Why am I uncomfortable
In front of my own flag
Why do I see it waved
Only abroad
Or by fascists
It's been gathering dust for ages
Mine hasn't been much use to me
Why does it bother me less
When it's Argentina's
Or Algeria's
I answer I'm French
With a hesitant look
As if doubting it
Had become obvious
No matter the side
No matter the camp
I was told to hate the President
I come from the country
Where it's always sunny
But also from the one
Where it rains all the time
Tell me whose descendant I am
Collaborators or resistance fighters
As many a*sholes as complexes
If I leave
You won't miss me
But on the other side of the world
First reflex
I look to see if there are any French people
I love France like an aunt
I don't always agree with
Who makes too little effort
But for whom I'd cry
All the tears in my body
At her death
You see how long this has been going on
Love or hate
It's no small matter
The police, the one of dirty blunders
Or the one on the front line
At the Hyper Cacher
Look elsewhere, take a step back
Try to split the difference
When we go to India
We feel French
When we come back
We feel lucky
Often we find answers
When we're not expecting them
Here it's the one who'll lie
The most sincerely
We only love each other after
World Cups
Or terrorist attacks
Like those families who only reunite
At weddings
Or funerals
It feels weird
But I love this country
The one that taxes me
And smothers me with taxes
The one that pays for me
At the pharmacy
Who took me for free
To see the sea at summer camp
Its history
I know its horrors
But also its power
I'm not responsible for its mistakes
But I have to deal with its consequences
Too many promises
We get acquainted
But how many know each other
We need to progress
To be honest, me, France
I tend to write it with an s
We manufacture abroad
If it's cheaper
And you, where would you go if war came
Forget history, we rewrite history
Peace at the foot of the wall
Of our borders
My dad lives in French
But dreams in Spanish
Is it serious
And he writes Long live France
With a spelling mistake
Lots of questions
Few answers
I only have a song's lyrics
How to be a committed artist
When I don't really know
What to think
All that's sure
Is that I'm French
That my grandparents
Weren't
But what matters
Is more the arrival
Or the starting line
And f*ck how I love France
For its history
For its castles
For its cathedrals
For its countryside, for its culture
For its mountains, yeah
But we eat each other up
Like cannibals
All in the same boat
That's crucial
No more nuance, only radical
All hiding behind a barricade
Everybody knows everything, huh
Self-esteem is high
We blame the other
But the others are us
Seems the chapel's on fire
The land of Joan of Arc or Jamel
Apparently being bitter
Is our pride
That we're the kings of freedom
In the old tomes, there are the Gauls
There are the knights
But in the kitchen
There's my grandma
And her faded Berber tattoos
Sometimes I tell myself, come on, I bail
I take a house
By a lake
And then at night in front of the mirror
I think twice about leaving
Like a coward
Because I think
That I love this country despite everything
When I leave it
I only think about my return
She's beautiful
My France and her land
Even if it's not me
She sees in the mirror
I tell myself we could do it
Break the glass ceiling
Instead of pointing out
Everyone's differences
Focus on what we've
Got in common
Monopoly games
Crying to Johnny's songs
Listening to elders' advice
Brittany even if it rains
Taking lots of medicine
Aspirin and Doliprane
Omar Sy and Zidane
Saying it was better before
Édith Piaf's La vie en rose
The pearls of rain
Of Jacques Brel
Making sculptures
With the red thing
That goes around the Babybel
Aperitif time
Not owning up to the hangover
Grumbling when it's too hot
And grumbling when it's too cold
France, I love her
I still want her
French from head to toes
But all these mistakes
That precede us
Here's a nice poem for her
Holy mix, holy cocktail
Some tell me it's lethal
But despite all the problems
I take you
Into my holy mess
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SONG MEANING

Sacré Bordel is Bigflo & Oli’s playful yet poignant love-letter to France – a place they adore, question, celebrate, and sometimes want to flee. Line after line, the rappers confess how the tricolor flag can make them squirm, how criticism of presidents feels like a national sport, and how pride only seems to surface during World Cup victories or moments of tragedy. The song zips through crowded Parisian avenues, rural villages, colonial shadows, and immigrant memories, asking who gets to claim “Frenchness” while admitting that the answer is as tangled as a bowl of spaghetti bolognese served with a baguette.

Ultimately, the track is a humorous, heartfelt reminder that identity is messy: you can complain about taxes, sing Brel in the shower, pack Doliprane for every trip, and still cry at the sight of French coastlines. Bigflo & Oli invite listeners to drop the blame game, focus on common ground, and embrace the “sacred mess” that makes France – and any homeland – worth loving. The result is an anthem for anyone who has ever felt both homesick and restless, proud and critical, rooted and uprooted all at once.

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