Apathy - O'Doyle Rules [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro - Apathy:]

We got Diabolic, Apathy, Paradime, Joe Scudda, Rob Kelly, Ryu, Mac Lethal
Happy St. Patty’s Day bitch

[Verse 1:Diabolic]

I don’t need a spot to crash, give me some twat to smash
With the atomic mass, of Nicky Minaj’s ass
I’m tipsy, mixing whiskey and vodka trashed
And the weed in Bolic’s stash is like breathing toxic gas
My life’s a graphic novel, about the average hostile kid
Who’d snap and twist your cap like tap the bottle
So grab your Bible and pray that God listens
If not the plot thickens, time bomb, clock ticking

[Verse 2:Apathy]

I ain’t crawling in this pub, Ap is on some new shit
Beat you with this pool stick till it’s a million toothpicks
Shit I spit on my CDs to crush you
To come back to life you’d need E.T. to touch you
My brass knuckles leave massive blood puddles
Fucking everyday struggle, my people survive the troubles
Cock back the mic, then knock back a pint
No cop, gats, or fights could stop Ap tonight

[Verse 3:Paradime]

It’s the rap Chuck Sheene, bars crack to the fiends
And I can barely see the way I lap up beam
Bring the kind of heat to make a mac-truck lean
So it’s bad luck everytime the fat fuck speak
You come around the D and try and act tough please
We got that clack clack blah, to make ya can’t can’t breathe
So I suggest you slide my guy
Before these Irish eyes show you my violent side

[Verse 4:Joe Scudda]

I’m so damn proud of who I am, just tell ‘em let the flag fly
He don’t like it, then fuck ‘em, let the fag die
Be afraid whenever this gettin’ played
A 100 mothafuckas with me but this ain’t a parade
No, I’m just a menace on the Guinness
We up disturbing the tenants, if you with me brotha what up
I take a shot for my pops, God bless
Show love to the fam, and the rest ‘em shut up

[Verse 5:Rob Kelly]

Nobody make fight rap quite like Rob Kell did it
Sex with Rihanna, it’s okay she like the smell of it
Hit her with a whip and a chain
Been rappin’ for years, barely have a whip and a chain
Sick of the game, all these fucking spitters are lames
So I spit in their face, a no name spitting the same
Sick in the brain, so I might bash you with an uppercut
No "I" in team, but there’s a "U" in you fucking cunts

[Verse 6:Ryu]

Okay I get it, yeah I drink a lot of Guinness
Alcoholic, I’m a mixture of XZIBIT and Michael Collins
Revolution, we bringing all the troops in
The first illegal aliens, they called us all mutants
Can still see the scars, bumps, and the bruises
I’m living proof when they say Patty is a nuisance
Used to get the nooses, now we rolling ruthless
Green and gold six-four chucking up the deuces

[Verse 7:Mac Lethal]

It’s the St. Pat’s clackers, A.K.A. the fake black panthers
We hate back packers, especially the real ones
On the mountain hiking
Get your shit jacked by a 100 angry vikings
Eye color lime green, beard color lit flame
Hair color whiskey, heart color Sinn Fein
All my brother’s insane with this
In that gin bar (speaking Irish), switch languages

"O’ Doyle Rules"
"Thanks a lot O’ Doyle, nice meeting you"