Bad Intentions

Shell cartel

Yeah that's Ink

Shout out the black box

86 gang

Coolock, Flinglas and Ballymun

Yeah

Crank that knives, yeah, man can't mend it

Stab him in the face with a shank and bend it

All of my gang got bad intentions

Hit him with a shiv, man, splash him, drench him

Snap off the blade, man

Grab that guap then mash up the place

See him in public, gash up his face

Doin' up work in council flats

And it's back to the bando, countin' stacks

Got weed yeah, uh, box of the finest

Mans in the crop house just like Silas

Got that twitch and the mob, I'm violent

Mans on road, doin' up mileage

A real bad man 'cause I know them hitters

6's here, put O's on digits

Put that wap to his head and merk him

Boy better pray that the shit ain't workin'

My gang there will grab that blaster

Run a man down, turn a boy Casper

Fuck your car, man, bikes are faster

Paid in full, catch that bastard

All of my packs are wrapped in plastic

86 gang, elastic bands

My gang there put the mask in bandit

Your gang here claiming killings

You ain't seen waps, you ain't done drillin's

I know them stops, they ain't no villains

You man a get dumped and slumped on the footpath

Open the door, man a see gunman

Ski masks on black out with pun pack

Anything I say in my rhymes, I done that

This is Dublin, check the statistics

Man a get dipped out here like biscuit

Man a hear thunder, man a hear gun clap

Slap his bitch like a dirty scum bag

Aye, aye

All of their gang get purged

Man a put out fire when he go to church

Man a get chopped in chef like Beshoffs

Red dot, head shot man a let lead off

My gang, yeah, bring the knife with them

Watch, free all my guys in the pen

Man got a dot and I'll send that in

Man got a dot and I'll send that in

Pick up the phone, better ring your friends

This is Dublin, man got bombs

And we blow everyone of them motherfuckers to bits

Better watch your mouth, you fucking little tick

Man a get clapped in the pub when he drinking Guinness

All of my thugs are dreamin, blood spillin', that's a Dublin shivin'

20 inches there, cut him and ching him

All of your gang are posers and actors

If man had a knife, man, he'd hold that backwards

I'm Ink, yes, and I'm old stock

Known out here on every block

Tell your gang get the coffins ready

Them boys there are soft like teddy

How many this and how many that?

Are you taking the piss?

How many rats are in your gang that vanished and ran?

Like Madeleine McCann

None of your gang are hard on me

And none of them boys are known in the schemes

It's clear to me why you hide your face

'Cause you don't want your ma to be disgrace

When she up in church on Sunday

Is that your man, Ink? Yeah, I know him

You want to know why? 'Cause I go in

Thought he was hard 'cause he went to prison

Man got knockout and he started twitchin'

Aye, aye

Brrr

Dublin City

Coolock, Flinglas and Ballymun

Yeah

Ink

Slu dem, POW