Here Lyrics in English Christine And The Queens , Booba

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song Here by Christine And The Queens from French to English.
Here is where everything happened
What I'd like to tell stays in a foreign land
Here is where everything happened
On my back marked by a cross put your hand remember
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Here is where everything happen
By fighting again and again I'm only geometry
Here is where everything happen
And my curious face was born from the debris of the great fire
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Don't let anything be lost
Memory is an animal
Don't let anything be lost
Dull silence brutal awakening
70,000 euros in my pocket
On Precarity Avenue I drive a Porsche
We're gonna gun down your Ford Escort
We don't give a f*ck that you've got friends in Corsica
I'm the Duke I start with 'he'
My heart's black the color of a barrel
I'd have liked Africa to be short on butts
I'm at its funeral every day
I'm the CAC 40 you're Greece's minimum wage
Skull split open on the bare dry ground
Everyone goes through it nobody stays
You're a chewed nipple nobody licks
Even if I sink my daughter reels me in
Don't give your ass for a few 'Likes'
I'd probably have to smoke a few hyenas
Always enough to fill a few Zéniths
M16 in the pickup truck
I got hookers with the Ch'tis she says "Which one you like"
At 16 I wanted to rob a post office
At 16 my son ordered a Rolls
If you've got me in your hand I'm a blister
When God created life he was smoking a cigarette
If you've got me in your hand I'm a blister
When God created life he was smoking a cigarette
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Here
He-heeeeeeere heeeeeeeeere
Lyrics and Translations Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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SONG MEANING

Christine and the Queens opens Here by planting an emotional flag in a single word: “Here.” It is the place on her scarred back where memories live, the battlefield where she fought to shape her own identity, and the ash-covered ground where a new face rose from a past inferno. Her French lines paint a fragile geometry of self while the English chorus pleads, “Don’t let anything be lost,” reminding us that memory can bite like an untamed animal yet still guide us home.

Then Booba storms in with a raw, diamond-hard verse. He speeds down Avenue de la Précarité in a Porsche, fires lyrical bullets at rivals, and flaunts fortunes that dwarf the minimum wage of Greece. His imagery of luxury, violence, and existential shrugging collides head-on with Christine’s vulnerability. The contrast turns the song into a thrilling dialogue: soft versus hard, art-pop versus street rap, remembrance versus reckless forward charge. Together they show that “Here” is not just one spot on a map but every battle scar, every triumph, and every contradiction that makes a person—and a society—feel unmistakably alive.

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