La musique a souvent servi à des fins politiques, des enjeux socio-culturels. Certains artistes ont même choisi d’écrire des textes engagés en ne pensant que rarement aux répercussions. Personnellement c’est la chansons « Marine » (2006) de Diam’s qui a marqué mon enfance.

Le monde artistique s’éloigne de plus en plus des problèmes de sociétés, sauf quelques branches qui résistent encore. Musicalement, j’ai peur pour cet art. J’ai cette impression que seulement la pop de midinettes (célèbres boy bands dont je ne citerai pas les noms, ou des starlettes pré adolescentes toujours plus aguicheuses) arrivera à faire bouger les foules, à vendre n’importe quoi tant que les paroles raconteront l’histoire d’amour entre Kevin et Samantha. Pourtant ce qui me désole le plus c’est de voir chaque artiste, avec ses propres convictions personnelles, qui tentent de se rapprocher au maximum d’un stéréotype pour augmenter le nombre d’auditeurs, et donc de ventes. Cette décennie marque selon moi un profond anéantissement de la présence de la politique dans les chansons.

Mais ici, dans cet article c’est d’Eminem, le célèbre chanteur de Detroit et qui est à 44 ans le rappeur ayant vendu le plus de disques de toute l’histoire, dont j’ai envie de vous parler.

Eminem a entamé son retour ce mercredi 19 octobre 2016. En effet, il a sorti son nouveau morceau intitulé « Campaign Speech » de 8 minutes, ressemblant plutôt à un long monologue qu’à une chanson. Bien que l’ultime débat entre Clinton et Trump* est passé, la bataille semble être toujours plus intense. Trump toujours plus dans le trash augmente ses propos sexistes et racistes. Les artistes sont de plus en plus nombreux à montrer la haine qu’ils ressentent pour le candidat. Dans ce morceau, on arrive à cerner la pensée d ‘Eminem concernant ce cher Trump et sa peur de le voir un jour diriger le plus grand pays du monde. Eminem avait déjà réalisé un morceau de ce genre pour Bush intitulé : « Mosh ». Je ne pense pas que m’étendre sur le sujet serait une bonne solution, je pense que les paroles parleront d’elles-mêmes.

Album à venir…

*le 8 novembre 2016 aura lieu l’élection présidentielle américaine

La vidéo :

Sources :

Lyrics :

Jumped out of the 2nd floor of a record store
With a Treacherous Four cassette and a cassette recorder

In Ecuador with Edward Norton

Witness the metamorphosis
Of a legend growin’ like an expert swordsman

From the Hessian war and
Hence the origin of the Headless Horseman

Born with the endorphins of a pathetic orphan

Endless source and reservoir
Of extension cords in dresser drawers
And deadbolts on the bedroom doors
And sexual torture kits kept in a separate storage bin
Excellent boyfriend


Use intercourse to settle scores
With women who have vendettas towards men
Dickhead is forced in ’til there’s shredded foreskin
Reddish torn and they’re only bein’ fed a portion
Bed sores and sore shins
Pregnant whores can get abortions
Fetish for stickin’ metal forks in, self-absorption

Skeletor, I went to Hell and fell a floor
A predator, I’m headed for competitors

Better warn ’em, what I lack in tact and a set of morals
I make up for in metaphors like a cosmetic store

Stegosaurus, Chuck Norris with a thesaurus

Yes, of course, a mess of warrants
You want some? Come and get some, boys!
I’m givin’ Daniel Pantaleo a refresher course
On excessive force and pressure points
And dressin’ George Zimmerman in a fluorescent orange
Dress and four inch heels to address the court
With a bullseye on his back, his whole chest and torso
Are left on the doorsteps of Trayvon’s dad as a present for him


In my present form I’m Desert Storm

Appetite for destruction there’s no suppressant for

Aggressive, forceful, and less remorseful in every morsel

Unpleasant, horrible; hello, gorgeous!

The rebel with devil horns just fell off the yellow short bus

Met a contortionist, said, « When you wanna get sexual? »

She said, « However I fit in your schedule. I’m flexible. »

Expired tags on the Saturn, got Catherine Bach

In the back in Daisy Dukes with the hazards on

At a traffic stop gettin’ harassed, sign an autograph

For this asshole cop’s daughter

Laugh ’cause I called her a brat on it

He spat on it and brought it back lookin’ half in shock

Had a heart attack and dropped dead

Started fallin’ back with it

And got slapped with a Colin Kaepernick practice sock


One ball and half a dick, Apple Watch

Crack front axle, walked in a Bass Pro Shop with David Hasselhoff, pulled Tabasco sauce out of my satchel

Knocked over a fisherman’s tackle box and *crash sound*

Asked if they had a laughin’ stock

That was fuckin’ stupid…


You got it twisted, all ’cause I offered this bitch

A doggie biscuit, you call me misogynistic

Bitch, get to massagin’ this dick!

Like spas in this bitch, slob on it with gobs of lipstick

Got a shoppin’ list for you to run some odds and ends with

It’s not a bitch on this earth I can be monogamous with

She’s non-existent

Robin Thicke with a throbbin’ dick on some suave and slick shit

But I shout derogatives at bitches like fuckin’ missile launches

Misfit, blond and nitwit

Like I’ve gone ballistic, with a frostin’ tip kit

Screamed, « I hate blondes, » and became one, I’m optimistic

Love to start shit

Shovin’ Clark Kent’s undergarments in the glove compartment

Of the bucket, bumpin’ Bubba Sparxxx

I’m double parkin’ up at Targets, trouble causer, a double crosser

Shadiest mothafucka you’ll ever come across

Olympic gymnast, been known for some assaults

A couple lawsuits, enough to cause a stomach ulcer

Same damn brain scan results as Rainman’s is

Something’s off, but when Dustin Hoffman’s

Dressin’ up in your mummy costume

On stage dancin’ to « Brain Damage, » what’s the problem?

Nothing’s wrong, the name brand is back to reclaim status

Run the faucet, I’mma dunk

A bunch of Trump supporters underwater

Snuck up on ’em in Ray-Bans in a gray van with a spray tan

It’s a wrap, like an ACE bandage

Don’t-give-a-fuck persona, to my last DNA strand

E&J in the waistband, at the VMAs with the stagehand

She wants kielbasa, pre-arrange an escape plan

Three-inch blade on point, like a See-and-Say

Consider me a dangerous man

But you should be afraid of this dang candidate

You say Trump don’t kiss ass like a puppet

‘Cause he runs his campaign with his own cash for the fundin’

And that’s what you wanted

A fuckin’ loose cannon who’s blunt with his hand on the button

Who doesn’t have to answer to no one—great idea!


If I was president

Gettin’ off is the first order of business

Once I get in office

Second thing that’ll make me happy’s walkin’ up to Uncle Sam

Naked, laughin’, dick cupped in hand

Screamin’, « Fuck safe sex! »

Throw a latex and an AIDS test at him

Tell Congress I run this land

And I want the rubber banned, and make it snappy

Addiction to friction and static

Addict who can’t escape the habit

Continue to chase the dragon

But as fate would have it, I walked up in Major Magics

Dressed as the maintenance man

In a laser tag vest and a racin’ jacket

With a gauge to blast it

And sped away in the station wagon

Stacey Dash’s and Casey Anthony’s

Crazy asses in the backseat

Throwin’ Stayfree pads at me

Dead passenger in the passenger seat

Unfasten the safety latches

And slam on the brakes in traffic so hard

I snapped the relocation brackets for the monster tires

‘Finna get a murder case and catch it

Like you threw it at me encased in plastic


And send Dylann Roof through the windshield of the Benz

Until he spins like a pinwheel and begins feelin’…

Like a windmiller with a thin build while his skin’s peelin’

And skids ’til he hits a cement pillar

Swing for the fence like Prince Fielder

Knock it into the upper peninsula

You wanna go against ‘zilla? The Rap God

When will I quit? Never been realer

The in-stiller of fear, not even a scintilla of doubt

Whose pens iller than Prince in a chinchilla

Or Ben Stiller in a suspense thriller

Revenge killer, avenge syllable binge

Fill a syringe, ’til I

Draw first blood

Even pop shit on my pop shit, and it’s popular

Couldn’t be more awkwarder

Cause you’re innocence I robbed you of

It’s my fingers that got stuck up

Taught ya ta, not give a

Slapstick, hockey puck

The broad hunter with the sawed off

Like an arm when it’s lopped off of ya

But I’m not gonna, get the shotgun

Or the Glock, I’m gonna opt for the ox

Cause I’m into objects that are sharp when I shop

And it’s not a shock, I’m such an obnoxious fucker

The Rock Hudson of rock ’cause who would have thought

This much of a cocksucker to go across the buttocks of Vivica Fox with a box cutter

That was for 50, little slap on the wrist be warned

I’m unravelin’ quickly

My squabbles, I’m grappling with your time traveling with me

Try and follow, as I wobble, relapse into history, with a flask of the whiskey

Tip it back then I’m twisting wine bottles

Like what happened to Chris Reeve’s spine column

That’s the plan of attack when I’m fixing my problems

Wish my chest wasn’t having to get these rhymes off ’em

But the fact that I have so many rappers against me mind boggles

And why I haven’t come back on these faggots who diss me is

More of a spectacular mystery than a fucking Agatha Christie crime novel


But my patience is wearing thin

Swear I been contemplatin’ rubbing shit in your face ’til I smear it in

Diss you in every lyric until you fear the pen

And never appear again

If you actually had fuckin’ careers to end

But then I think of Molly Qerim and I steer ’em in that direction and forget my ideas for them

Molly, I’m gone off you

Man, light some kush

You’re my first take, I’ll nail you

Can’t lie, I gush

If I won you over, you would be the grand prize

I’m entranced by your looks, come and give the Shady franchise a push

You can get it in the can like some Anheuser Busch

Jeans too small, least three pant sizes tush

Mushed against your damn side, your puss

And thighs are squished

What kind of attire’s that?

I’m ready to be rode

Psychopath, bet you we’ll get it poppin’ like a flat

Light the match to ignite the wrath

Got knives to slash and slice hermaphrodites in half

Piper Chapmans might just have to picket me

Like a scab

Hard to describe in fact

Startling violent perhaps

Are things that come to mind as soon as I start spitting rhymes like that

And you aren’t really surprised at that

But as far as these lines I rap

And these bars, wouldn’t dial it back if I star 69ed the track


Why am I such a dick?