Shaool
I'm harbouring thoughts, thinking that my marbles are lost
Instinct to keep stumm at all costs
Cumbersome, wondering how dumb I must appear
My circuitry's not really working, I'm not really here
Clearing outer space chasing after voyager 1
Logical to speak but the logic seems dumb
I'm thinking if the words slip and roll from my tongue
I'll be broke to smithereens yeah the damage is done
I'm losing sense, one step next to unsteady
Getting envy of that mad man, ranting and raving
So leave me at it, I'm cannonballing towards
Dramatic downfalls with other fools
co*k eyed swinging off a high stools
I speak truths, I get loose or maybe just lose it
I do have a habit to confuse it
It seems wild quiet in that scrap heap of hardmen
Why do I be holding on to this then
Hook
I'm a get this, I'm a get this
Out of my system
Detox the brainbox before I lose my rhythm
I'm a get this, I'm a get this
Out of my system
Detox the brainbox before I lose my rhythm
Myster-E
You'll never see me limit my output
Cos keeping my mouth shut' is not something I would
Agree with or vouch for
No matter how coarse or gritty these little outpours
Go out towards those in my vicinity without remorse
I pity those old school fools who keep it hidden or outsource
Their opinions to a higher force
So they can't be held accountable amounting to nothing
Is what this gets ya, plus a wrecked head full of regret
You'll decimate yourself melted welly style
It won't be televised so let it out yeah never keep it held inside
Petrified is how you'll live if you do this sh** kid
So risk it for a biscuit buddy
I'm not being funny
Spit like I did, do or does
Yeah for the buzz, I tore the muzzle off my face
And solved the puzzle with my waffle
What the f**, this seemed impossible back in the days
But now look, everything's ok
Hook
I'm a get this, I'm a get this
Out of my system
Detox the brainbox before I lose my rhythm
I'm a get this, I'm a get this
Out of my system
Detox the brainbox before I lose my rhythm
MC Muipeád
Chuile lá beo le gairid samhlaíom an chomhrá
A bheadh agam leat agus muide ag brise suas
Is é an rud deireadh ar domhan gur mhaith liom
Ach mothaíonn mé i mbaol, ládireacht, imithe ar seachrán
Nílim ach ag iarradh a bheith mar fhear maith agat
Cé gur iontach eait dhomsa (é) sin a rá os ord
Fadó, cheap mé nach mbeadh sé seo uaim a riamh
Is go mbeinn ar nós ainmhí amuigh i gcónaí ag fiach
Níl ach gá dhuit a bheith díreach mar a tá tú
Searrachúil...sin atá ionad a stór
Tá sé sin níos mó ná sách maith dhomsa
A bhean uasal, a ghrá geall a chara
Leannaigh muid ar aghaidh díreach mar atá muid
Ag crochadh thart is ag caint neart neart seafóid
Agus cén dochar agus muid sona sásta
Seo muid a stóirín ar mhuin na muice