[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 Nicki 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"