"Get Your Brits Out" lyrics

Guess who's back on the news
It's your favourite Republican hoods
It's your fella with the Nike Air shoes
Two chains, two birds and we know what's good
Guess who's back to abuse
Every solvent that I choose
Two blues and a pint of stout
And never you mind if it smells like trout, foc
[?] ag teacht I mo dhiaidh
Ach Stalford agus an DUP
Gach lá, taobh amuigh de mo theach
Go back to Dublin if you want to rap
Anois éist, I'm gonna say this once
Yous can all stay just don't be cunts
And don't be runnin' round like silly old tans
Just take these yokes and we'll go for a dance
Go for a dance, go for a dance, go for a dance, go for a dance

Bhí an DUP harassin' me
But now we're all on the yokes and it's startin' to be
A good night out, they forgot all about
The time that I said something like 'Brits Out'
Arlene's throwing shapes off a yoke nearly killed her
Jeffrey Donaldson's lost all his filters
Seo duit mate, take two sticks
He got me in a headlock and gave me a kiss
And now Christy Stalford's having the craic
Showing everyone his old tattoo on his back
Arlene says 'Relax or you'll get sacked'
Dúirt mé 'tóg go bog mé', things get weird when you're whacked
Brits Out for the night and we landed in Thompson's
Told Donaldson to double drop to see what happens
Sammy Wilson got knocked back at the door
And now he's out the front in bad form
Start na hoíche, ndeart yokes le hithe
'Nois tá mála de fiche, críochnaithe
These E's are sweet, they're sweet E's, I'm eatin em like sweeties, mála mór cola bottles agus mála meanies

Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one

Ar ais ag an teach and things are getting crusty
Arlene ar mo chlé and she's getting touchy
Must be, just mar gheall ar na yokes
Cos she whispered in my ear 'I like to be choked'
And then I boked right into her face
Cos the room was spinning all over the place
I couldn't stand, couldn't sit but I kept her lit
And now my best mate is a distinguished Brit

We're at the afters and it's a disaster
Cunts are talkin politics, there's a lack of a laughter
Skaggin' out on the sofa, Arlene's chinned
Paro off her head, she believes she's sinned
Donaldson has started with his homophobic chat
So everyone has started on him and that's enough of that
Stalford's lickin' coke off a plate
You've got issues mate
You've got issues mate, issues mate, issues mate, issues mate

Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one
Get your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out, Get Your Brits Out
We're on a mad one