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lyrics

Chorus
Trouble...
Shankill to the Falls
In Belfast City
Violent and pretty

Verse 1
Sectarian slogans – scrawled on our walls
Graffitied areas – like Shankill and Falls
Youths write things they don’t understand
Don’t realize hate won’t make ‘em a man
Brainless – half cut – kids slabberin’
Across the Watts at Protestants
“Pastie Supper – Pastie Supper”
Riotous taunts from unaware fuckers

Head to a riot for a bit of craic
Bouncing out of cars with baseball bats
Getting’ lifted all cuz of stupid shit
(Where’s the love?) Yous wee shits need hit from Cupid’s tip
Getting blocked – shouting – at the top of your lungs
“We don’t like yis orange cunts”
Murals on the wall that say “Irish Out”
It’s ironic – cuz we’re in Ireland now

Fuck you with your sectarian slurs
When you intimidate by paintin’ curbs
On the Shankill – I don’t feel safe
Sure prods feel the same on Falls estates
We avoid areas – cuz of our religion
That right there’s ironic – isn’t it?

Verse 2
I meet this girl first day on the job
She’s looking to know whether teig or prod
Beating round the subject like a paramilitary
A bit slow on it like the P&O ferry
“What team you support? Where you from?”
Uhhh… Celtic and Ireland
But I don’t follow football - fuck the team
“Are you red, white and blue? Or orange, white and green?”

Who cares my views differ from you
I probably kick with the wrong foot too
I’m a teig – but not like Barbara De Brun
If you’re a fucking snout I’d still like you
I feel welcome with green, white and orange
Red, white and blue makes me feel foreign
When I hear a march – I feel abhorrent
Like Wolf Tones playing the Antrim Forum

Verse 3
Went for a swim in the Shankill baths
The area’s dodgy – but the waves are class
Met locals – and shared some fags
It was sweet as til I heard ‘em say
“Aye – smoke a butt – fire it this way
I wouldn’t leave that to a fucking teig”
I was all fuck you mate – under my breath
And agreed cuz I said my name was Jeff

No more flags – colours – paintings of guns
No kill all teigs – no kill all huns
No sectarian tunes – no hatred murals
But I’m not for a PC world

Talking to a guy bout a girl he just met
“Dark hair – slim – with cracker breasts”
Something all to common shot out his mouth
“Aye she’s sweet – but she’s still a snout”

Violence bread – from when you’re a kid
Words from foul mouths warp your opinion
Don’t raise kids with the hate you exhibit
Don’t mould with the mental tattoo of a bigot

credits

from Tales of Self Preservation Gone Wrong, released May 25, 2012

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Bee Mick See Belfast, UK

Born in Portland. Lives in Belfast.
Raps and composes music.

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