L'enflure Lyrics in English by Heuss L'enfoiré

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song L'enflure by Heuss L'enfoiré from French to English.
These lyrics have verified word for word translations. Click any lyric word to see the translation and hear the pronunciation!
Kikow on the-
He's known ne-zo for ten years
At the time, it was a chouf during the four seasons
From time to time, after midnight, he would go on a mission
At nineteen, it's the first time he's been in prison
It's hard to believe, during his detention, no one came to see him
Zero visiting rooms, mandates were rare
He will serve his sentence without any fuss, calm and guilty
When he's eighteen months old, he's ten on one leg, angry
He had to celebrate his twenty years in the remand center
The mind is free, inevitably, it wants to restart
To begin with, you have to be pushed
Don't even worry he paid everything back
He knows where to recharge his batteries one hundred percent
It quite often matches all their reports
In the meantime, he eats, he sells, he dresses as before
Distributes only grams throughout the capital
Bring half a kilo back there in the countryside
He smokes, he drinks vodka, whiskey and champagne
He hangs out in Valenciennes, nehess with Chantal
He had fake checks, drugs and money
But it never flew higher than 25 thousand euros
Two years pass, he leaves his hands and traces
The macho guy has grown up, now he has a kid
He is a father, but the judge catches up with him
And the jail too
In cell with Medlar, he's okay, he's put on weight
He had squé-ma paper and a little shit too
His pain passed quickly, so quickly
That when it comes out, it quickly resumes sales
To get back up the slope
That's it, he works alone, he's no longer in the group
Single-handedly, with his whore, they formed a gang
He goes from hideout to hideout, city to city, thousand to thousand
Tickets that pile up
But he doesn't sleep peacefully
Social security is his rifle, the 43 Maroki
Safety, sophisticated embroidery
The series continues, still in its madness
Jack Daniels, hotel and jacuzzi
He's a pimp, narcotic, half alcoholic
A swelling not possible, whatever happens, it never ends
The outlaw lives like a Brussels resident
In the bottle, vodka tah the Uzbeks
With a spliff in the mouth
Anderlecht, Schaerbeek, still in the barometer
The swelling likes the party too much, picking up sprinkles
It was in Belgium that he escaped the investigation
Always calm just before the storm
Don't worry too much about him, he's in his womb, listen to Salif
Love doesn't exist, pussies taste like piss
Summoned by Iblis to an Ibis hotel
People and time pass, he becomes a specialist
Versatile in all mechanisms
He doesn't like the police, the receptionists
On the top floor, wake up at noon sharp, it's the cleaning lady
Check out the state of the room, he leaves ashes everywhere
Respect nothing from January to December
He pisses everywhere, figure it out, he's in BX Land
With girls, it never lasts long, he's way too greedy
And he loves money too much, that's the only thing that makes him happy
Who cares about big German cars?
He rents a place for his friend and goes to Holland
In winter, like all the others, it's vacation in Thailand
Back in this-Fran, it's back to good luck
Swelling, he's not rich, but he's not a tramp
Whatever happens, when he drinks, he's a real rioter
A big bastard, conductor, a bit like Mozart
Move out when things get weird, he does what's necessary
Every night let them do it, let him drink
It's not in a club but in the bar which is splitting the pear
Confidence in no one like Alain Delon
He speaks about himself in the third person
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Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
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L'enflure — The Swelling / The Scumbag

L'enflure literally translates to "the swelling" or "the bloated one." However, in French slang, it's a derogatory term meaning "the scumbag," "the jerk," or "the lowlife."

In this song, the artist uses "L'enflure" as a recurring nickname for the main character, painting a vivid picture of a street hustler who lives outside the law. It perfectly encapsulates the character's morally ambiguous and often unsavory lifestyle, making it a central and memorable word in the lyrics.

L'enflure ("The Jerk") traces the life of a man known by that nickname for his ego and swagger, from his teenage years as a lookout for local dealers through his first prison sentence at nineteen and several more stretches after that.

Each time he gets out he drifts back into dealing, eventually running his own small operation across France and abroad. He spends freely on Jack Daniels, hotels and jacuzzis, moves between Brussels neighborhoods to stay ahead of investigations, and keeps women at arm's length while trusting almost no one.

By the end he talks about himself in the third person, as if the "enflure" persona has grown bigger than the man wearing it. It reads less like a celebration than a character study of someone who never quite outgrew the reputation he built as a teenager.

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