Let You Go

[Intro] "Alcohol I gotta have a little talk with you I wanna treat you just like you treated me" "[?] Gotta put you down" [Verse 1: Hons] I drink bottle after bottle of anything That my wallet can afford, just to build up my tolerance Hons rack a bottle and gate crash a club night Backstage, VIP rider with a rum high Drinking like my bucks night, last hurrah My legs never move three feet past the bar And I’m inebriated till my liver wanna taunt me Kidney packed up and legs can't support me I love the sauce like J.Lo loves divorce Iron stomach chef with a thirst for the main course Now that’s ‘Oars in a nutshell Hanging with skirts at the bar downing cowboys like they suck well Flirtatious seasoned drinker, when I'm Wasted, it's Mr Sleazy Fingers, now Hide the liquor when the 'Oars rock up To gate crash the party, bring it back when the cops come (Oh) [Chorus: Trials] You gotta give it up You gotta put it down You gotta give it up Flashy put it down, come on [Verse 2: Sesta] I got it bad for the good shit, scratch that I got it for the good and the bad, the mediocre, bro, it's all over once I get open Yeah, it was me Who made him bleed But I don’t know what the fuck we’re fighting over Waive my right to silence, when I called the cop a Cocksucker, reaching for my privates, huh I ain’t lying, I’m trying to quit it I'm sitting up in AA like, "Ayy, where's the 'Fiddich?" (Ayy) We make the music you drink and drop to Then start the Tetris party, that’s where the block move That’s where the cops move in, surround the house I need to bounce, I'm quick with the clean out Me and tequila go together like Ivan Milat And a backpacker but, huh, like it even matters Gimme more, gimme more, give me more Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gotta let you go [Chorus: Trials] You gotta give it up You gotta put it down You gotta give it up Flashy put it down, come on [Interlude: Trials (Sesta)] Ayy, ayy, chill, hold the fuck on a sec Ayy, check this out, ayy, one two Ayy, cruising down the street in my shit Ford Knocking the Spirits, smashing a Boags Too drunk out my arse to get the root So I said (What you say?) So I said (What he say?) [Verse 3: Trials] Come drink with a qualified rotten guy Bad like the first dude that knew Downey Jr. and got 'em high Swigging it straight got me doing dumb shit I need to find some mixers like Heidi Klum's kids I'm a product of the liquid, [spit] living in pig shit But I'm drinking the pimp shit, drown my sorrows with a pie cart The liferaft for the walk home Banging double sleaze burger and a fucking pork roll I stumble, *bleargh*, stagger Bunch of drunks that learned to walk to pub crawl to get me maggot I don't mean maggot like a bunch of flies, chill I mean maggot like Gary Ablett and a bunch of pills Duck for cover when the 'Oars in town We bring the funk underground like Billy and James Brown