Feeling the heat to pick a side, Grand Corps Malade and his two lyrical allies turn the spotlight on the artist’s eternal dilemma: Should I shout my truth or stay in my lane? The verses describe friends, journalists, and total strangers who tug at the trio’s sleeves and bark orders: Sign this petition. Back that candidate. Comment on every tragedy. The pressure cooker hisses louder when the same crowd instantly flips and tells them to shut up and sing. Caught in this noisy tug-of-war, the rappers confess their own doubts about legitimacy, expertise, and the fear of sounding preachy.
The chorus answers with both humility and fire. I only know what I’ve lived, Grand Corps Malade reminds us, mentioning ten years in hospital beds, the sting of loss, and the comfort of music. He owns the limits of a song—no track alone will topple governments—but he refuses to be ornamental background noise. Instead, he chooses the middle path: ask tough questions, spark reflection, and stay honest about what he truly knows. La Cause is not a sermon. It is a bright, self-aware manifesto that invites listeners to dance, think, and maybe find the courage to raise their own questions, too.