this is how i translated this, it's been a while since i studied french so i could be wrong:

All the time justifying everything, always explaining, all the time analyzing everything, always unraveling for criticism and all the ones who want to raise an eyebrow in silence.

I want to say it, it is not me who says it. It's a bad spirit, it's a malady, a curse! A bad turn of phrase. My violent words in the direction of abjection, without the ability to make an objection.

My language is radio-controlled in the sewer of my ideas by a pixie in my head, a mischevious thing who throws a party. That's my problem, I'm like a drone, a plane with no pilot.

just a couple mistakes:

I tell you it's not me who's saying it
It's a bad spirit (could also be translated as feeling) [...]
A bad turn of phrase
My words fly in the direction
Of abjection
And I can't make an objection

...and just as a note, the french and francophone world has always been pretty serious about their language, so the emphasis here on not having control over the words spoken is especially meaningful. so much so that "un mal de la diction" is actually funny/very clever.

The intro:

- De retour à la face cachée du stress, en compagnie de Malajube et Loco Locass, ici Jube.
- Vas-y Jube.
- Les gars, Malajube, pourquoi vous vous accouplez à Loco Locass, qui propose comme prêt-à-penser, pré-mastiqué, pour la masse, pourquoi polluer vos propos par la politique, vous ne vous amusez plus avec la musique ?

My translation:
- Returning to the hidden side of stress, joined by Malajube and Loco Locass. Here's 'Jube.
- Go ahead, 'Jube.
- So guys, Malajube, why are you collaborating with Loco Locass, who raps in a ready-to-think, prechewed, for the masses way. Why pollute your lyrics by politics? Shouldn't you be more happy with music?

Always justifying everything
Always explaining everything
Every day, analyzing everything
Always dissecting everything
for the critics and those who'll raise eyebrows

In silence

I'm telling you that it's not me who's saying this
It's a bad feeling
It's a sickness
It's a curse
A bad saying
My words fly in the direction
Of abjection
And I can't make an objection

My language is guided
In the sewers of my ideas
By a demon (imp) in my head
A troublemaker who's throwing a party
That's my problem,
I'm like a drone,
A plane without a pilot