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