And, fittingly for a come-down, here’s an Enya sample.

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Iain Mew: This is like one of those TV series that put across their initial premise brilliantly and then falter when required to carry it on. The way Maître Gims sings the first line is such a triumph of instant force and drama, where the hell is he supposed to go from there? Neither he or the comparatively restrained production has an answer.
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Cédric Le Merrer: Maître Gims and his Wati B labelmates have reigned on French airwaves with their hip hop variété for years now, and I can’t take much more of his wounded dude schtick. This more or less sounds like a mediocre RedOne beat for Gaga with an angry guy shouting all over it. For a guy supposed to come from hip-hop, his singing is incredibly stiff, revealing his roots probably lay in Jean Jacques Goldman type variété, not NTM. “Est-ce Que Tu M’Aimes?” finds him stuck with a woman who changed from thelove of his life to prison guard the instant he put a ring to her finger. It may not be Maître Gims’ worst offense on the misogyny front, but using the glass ceiling metaphor to describe his situation earns him a few extra points. There’s probably no malice in it, though. At some point, he does say he’ll carve out her name in black ink, so I can’t imagine him putting too much thought in his lyrics.
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Jessica Doyle: “Okay, Mégui,” said the A&R executive, “okay, okay, okay, what we’ve got on the table is, to take you in a new direction, something a little more like — Shakira.” Thinking: He’s going to lose his shit, I can’t wait to tell Olivier about this. But Gims merely smiled.
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Megan Harrington: I’m forever partial to the original version, but if you’re going to interpolate “Orinoco Flow,” it seems in Enya’s spirit to couple it with a sonorous voice. Gims runs slightly afoul by tainting her earthly majesty with talk of mortal romance, but nothing’s perfect.
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Will Adams: What would Enya dislike more: being actually sampled on a Die Antwoord song, being referenced on a video game soundtrack, or being interpolated in a passable, ultimately boring midtempo ballad?
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Ramzi Awn: Shakira would have done better by “”Est-ce Que Tu M’Aimes?” — if she spoke French. There is no question that Maître Gims has a powerful voice, but his balladry would better serve a romantic comedy montage sequence — the protagonist, realizing the error of his ways, racing the streets of Paris in search of his true love — rather than a single. 
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Brad Shoup: A gorgeous, dumbstruck voice, but shouldn’t there be some wryness? Any ironic note? Gims rocks his head to the plucked melody, but like an existential shrug emoticon.
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Alex Ostroff: Maître Gims describes his relationship as “ce jeu du mâle et de la femelle” which makes him the French equivalent of that guy who talks about how confounding he finds ‘females’ and then wonders why he can’t sustain a functional relationship. He claims he was once ready to tattoo her image under his eyelids, so he could still see her in an eternal sleep — a dramatic and ultimately meaningless gesture, as it’s unlikely that he would see the black ink with his eyes closed. Anyway, in the blink of an eye, she’s changed and he’s not sure if he still loves her. But obviously, hurting her feelings has made him suffer like never before. He has a lot of very important manpain. Whatever.
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