Trials - Still Drunk lyrics

[Hook:] Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/drunk/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/drunk/-drunk motherf**ers [Verse 1: Hunter] Up the creek without a paddle but we got Funkoars Where's my beer? c*nt we drunk yours! Sons of wars, I'm breaking tons of laws It's f**ing Hunts of course putting runs on the board Like Langer at a test match, I'm taking the best catch I check out the face, the tits, and then snatch I always wear a rubber so the eggs don't hatch I needed some funk and Oar's had a new batch I scored well for it and got amphetimized Then crossed the Nullarbor to hang with Certified Wise Losing sanity on a thirty hour drive Hip hop's the only reason that I'm still alive [Verse 2: Trials] I'm that dude in the back of the club, slashed like f** With my head nearly touching my gut, throwing sh** up It's the Oars of funk and we just started getting drunk Blowing chunks, hooded up like a Gregorian Monk The Funkorian's buff so keep rubbing if you're feeling me Mr T, fat enough to claim a disability Ain't a cat alive dumb enough to test us I serve you the two round two through John Edwards My style is wrecking mics and stylists My rhyme moves the hearts of tarts like Saconian diamonds These tracks turn heads like Linda Blair naked I say a lot of dumb sh** but never try to take it back Like a face lift, mistaken if you fake it Face it, we rock the place like sumo weigh ins We rock spots like chicken pox and savages Ma**acres, breaking sh** down like bad marriages [Hook:] Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/drunk/-drunk motherf**ers (And what if Hons was one of us?) [Verse 3: Hons] Well there then we'd have a world full of perverts and verse plus beat precision Hons will pull your car like a f**ing street magician Think that's dope? Well here's the best part Raps are that phat my punchlines develop f**ing stretch marks It's the Oars and Hunter Full of drunk mother f**ers, down the pints 'til we chunder s**er, we bust through and crush crews The Funkoars get rotation like we released a bus loop Sketchy Hons a certified trend setter Never sell out cos underground groupies give head better So make way for the mad sketchy c*nt I'm the type of guy that buys a sports car just to f** a [?] s*ut I'll test your luck when I'm gripping a mic And I ain't a fan of red so paint your town certified 1...2...3...4 [Verse 4: Sesta] Never brag, never had to Never boast cos I know the show is over once we get off the stage Between me and the bar and then you best get out the way After a bottle of Johnny couldn't stop me Putting the barricade of hottie boddies in line until they told me whether I rap here or Perth, Melbourne or Sydney Never rap for the attention, I'm here to get her tipsy See, I'm gonna need a hand in Canberra and I don't even want to be able to stand up Drunk with drinks and they're gone and hell will have to fill me like a sober Funkoar Don't aim when I piss but I rap when I'm pissed Slight laminated lyrics but I'm still able to rip it up You need a lesson in rap, I'll show you how Oars keep it raw Only sell out here's the crowd [Hook:] Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/drunk/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars, drunk motherf**ers-/drunk/-drunk motherf**ers Funkoars-/-funkoars-/-fun-fu-fun-/-