the kings / na ríogh - finn lune lyrics
[part i]
[verse]
writing my language in songs
just so these won’t know what i’m on
just so everyone near me will know i’m from
huh, go pick apart all my art
translate my song into google once you misunderstanding the part
hope everybody i know that’s from britain won’t take it to heart
’cause our deep history ain’t none of my fault
taking tracks i made outta the vault
putting albums right onto a halt
’cause they take my sh*t with a grain of salt
’cause they mad boys, what the f*ck yous on?
go outside, put your two shoes on
i don’t care about your views on
my tunes, your movement that you hate finn lune
nеver signed and nevеr paid to promote
all of my songs is organic growth
nepo sh*t is that sh*t that i loathe
in a jealous way, ’cause i want it the most
f*ck the tracks back when i used to boast
this personal, didn’t you read the post?
they spreading sh*t, like rumors and hoax
this a call back to our northern coast
[part 2]
nach thuiginn tú é sin? nilím ag imir aon cleas leat
stop lads, i gconaí bímse go deas
ach muna thuiginn tú é sin, nilimse brón chun faidh réigh leat
níl stiúideo agam as níl ceann uaim
agus is cuma liom mar déanaimse mo ceol istigh mo room
“oh mo dhia finn lune, nach bhfuil seo a f*ckin tune?
an bhfuil tú ag chuir amach aon albaim?”
sea, soon, seas suas
, mo lyricí istigh parentheses
is muid na ríogha leis na croíche mór, lucht féachanna ag abair “more”
mo amhráin f*ckin’ sick, beidh ortsa seol mé chuigh an doctúir
an tionchar le kneecap, nach bhfuil sé soiléar ar fad?
níl fhios acu cad tá rá, gach duine ag abair “cad?”
cosúil le cluiche de c.o.d, taimse ag marú mo bars
mar ní thuiginn said an vérsa, tá siad ag iarriadh stad
ag labhair mo teanga ar feadh timpeall deich blian
agus beidh sé níos mo, you cannot take that from me
ag lean ar le fada, le go leor muinín
meangadh gáire don pictúir, go on and abair inspín
mas fuath leat me, is féidir leat teacht chuig mo seó
níl aon fuath i mo chorp, táim sona deas beo
tá siad díreach lyricí, nílim ró*fhíor le mo cheol
nah, sin bréag mór, mo chroí istigh mo stiúideo, huh
[outro * finn lune & kneecap]
sea, soon, seas suas
táimse royalty ó nás na ríogh
an gráinne mhaol ón seven seas, mo lyricí istigh parentheses
is muid na ríogha leis na croíche mór, lucht féachanna ag abair “more”
mo amhráin f*ckin’ sick, beidh ortsa seol mé chuigh an doctúir
an tionchar le kneecap, nach bhfuil sé soiléar ar fad?
níl fhios acu cad tá rá, gach duine ag abair “cad?”
cosúil le cluiche de cod, taimse ag marú mo bars
mar ní thuiginn said an vérsa, tá siad ag iarriadh stad
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