[Verse 1: Rob Kelly]

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

[Verse 2: Slaine]

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

[Hook x 2]

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

[Verse 3: Rob Kelly]

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

[Hook x 2]

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