Текст песни
Guess who’s back on the news
It’s your favorite 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
Tomhas cé atá 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 half 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 é’, 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
Scoth na hoíche, neart 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
'Cause she whispered in my ear ‘I like to be choked’
And I boked right into her face
'Cause 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 tinn
Paro off her head, she believes she’s sinned
Donaldson has started with his homophobic chat
So everyone has started on him 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