Rob Kelly, Slaine - Dropkicked lyrics

Who wanna come take a swing at
The king of the ring?
Barroom brawler leave your fucking
Arm in a sling you can stay rocking jewels
I be rocking your chin
Get the antiseptic out cause
The jabs gonna sting
I’m the reason that most
Rappers rhyming shook got no watch on
I’m going for a timeless look
Cause, I’m a beer drinker, I down a one man
There’s three things you’ll never see me with
Cuts, bruises, or a sun tan
The one man wrecking crew
Who you think you reckon you could rip?
I rip rappers apart in a session
You numb nuts, jumped up
Son of a fucked up pair of Paris faggots
Unapparent your appearance
You think I give a damn
Who the fuck you sinked?
I leave em punched up, snuffed
The jux you thing
Understand that the junk you sing is
Gonna have your fucking owl one
Wonder where the fuck you went

Yo I live in a dump
Shitfaced and dribbling drunk
Give him a buck, forty bottle
And a hit of the blunt
I put pestilent poetry on any pitiful punk
Spit at a chump leave the
Fucking stage littered with chunk
I’ll disfigure your fronts
Out for six figures a month
I got friends in high places
Tell those midgets to jump
This is your life homie you’re
Only living it once
We all came here the same way
Delivered from cunts
I’m a son of a gun, gun of a son of a hunter
And with a hundred and one reasons
To bust off and act dumb
I’m nutty with the needle and there
Ain’t no way to fix me
A dirty devil and so dig your
Ditches if you diss me
I’m pissy off the whiskey
I’m higher off the coka
My pockets getting broke and
My pockets getting broke
Some voices got treble, some voices got bass
We got the kinda voices that are in your face

Like the bun to the burger
The burger to the bun
The three to the two to the murder to the one
Like the cherry to the apple
The peach to the plum
If you’re quick on the draw
Better reach for your gun

I never forget my enemies, I batter the Mala
Wait till I catch em slipping
Crack em right in the jaw
The last one I hit him once
He wasn’t ready to fall
So again with the second
Hand like Vincent DePaul i’m ripping em all
Really who the fuck want what?
I crush your pelvis in
Leave you all shooked up i’m all fucked up
I drank a whole bottle of scotch
Spit on the floor
Gave a glamour model her shots
I got the hots for a fistfight
A jones for a bare-knuckle scrapping
I box your teeth in
Now try rapping you gummy bear
Now you’re dripping blood to your underwear
I’ll bet you didn’t know I had
The knuckles tucked under there
I’m from where everybody knows
That I’m dumb hot
And you don’t need a guitar
To get your punk rocked the Johnny Rotten
Put your face to the pavement
Mad love to Andy Lee and the Gael force Fagan

Like the bun to the burger
The burger to the bun
The three to the two to the murder to the one
Like the cherry to the apple
The peach to the plum
If you fuck with O’Liffey Fam
Your crew you better run