I arrive, I stir up shit like at a concert
And I throw myself into the crowd like a rocker
Heavy track, not like Ramzy
Stir up shit go ahead, big guy, it's the rhamé, it's rhami
The walls are sweating, take off your T-shirt, Mani
We strip you naked like at 421
At the casino or Miami, rhinami, the friend
Ghetto like in Harlem when we show up
In prison, drive the guards crazy
If you're in a car, accompany this sound with honks
Police lights as spotlights
Scenes to immortalize on camcorder
On every floor of your tower
A sound to make you run the lights
Skip classes like Miss France 2001
Crazy fun, off limits
To make you come home at dawn
Roll yourself a big smoke bomb
It's sex loosen up the buttocks
Even if you squat on the benches
Until you have the mark on your buttocks
Even the Foufs are in on it
Stir up shit and keep the peach

113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit!

I arrive I stir up shit like at Parc des Princes
With my staff like Guy Roux we are all tight
Crowd movements of crazy people
"Yeah, exactly"
As Thierry Relou or Jean Michel Claqué would say"
113 the team you hear through the trembling walls?
It's like the 15 of France in your room
It's michto, re-cui, 501, bald
There are no more curly hair like Rocheteau
Oh buddy, stir up shit like at the flea market
Or like at rush hour on the bus
Or like at the studio when we work
Move your head until you get a stiff neck
Even sick and ill, we get you out of bed

If you're in a nightclub, get in the pile
Raise your finger in the air, do the splits like Travolta
If you see blurry and you come home drunk
Lift the toilet seat and like Tiger Woods aim well for the hole
9.4 FM from P-Funk to soul
And right away, your living room turns into a saloon
Rim-k, Ap, Mokobé, the 113 stirs up shit

113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit, aah
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit
113 stirs up shit

VIEW ORIGINAL LYRICS