This morning there is sunshine we took out the bikes
Tour de France of the beautiful neighborhoods and trash bins of the aristos
On our two makeshift wheels in down jackets and turtlenecks
We aim for the yellow jersey of sweet France next door
With a little luck we'll bring back
Half pants a Barbie with one arm
Holiday souvenir to please the children
And kilos of caviar to eat...
It's true that everywhere we go
Cleanliness is not don't push back
But we know the music
And for swing we're the kings
Because...
We're gypsies
Of the worst kind ¨ce
Fed and housed
At the expense of the princess
Chicken thieves
Seeds of criminals
Who cut the throats of your garbage
And violate your trash cans
All roads lead to the Roma of course but there you go
This one doesn't smell of hazelnuts and even less of lilacs
Far from the Gallic village of the aftermath of the holiday
A real courtyard of miracles under the A7 motorway
This is where we pitched our scraps of caravan
Immobile travelers from the suburbs of Villeurbanne
Who wonder how to escape from destiny
When he has the calves of a Jamaican 4 x 100?
It's true that wherever we go
Tolerance does not grow back
But we know the music
And for swing we are the kings
Because...
We are gypsies
Of the worst kind
br/>Fed and housed
At the expense of the princess
Chicken thieves
Seeds of criminals
Who cut the throats of your garbage
And violent your trash
It's true that everywhere we go
Evictions push us far away
But we know the music
And for the swing we will come back
Because...
We are gypsies
Of the worst kind
Fed and housed
At the princess's expense
Chicken thieves
Seeds of criminals
Who slaughter the garbage
And violate the trash cans (x2)

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