Still Drunk

[Hook: Turntablism]

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk motherfuckers

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk-drunk motherfuckers"

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk motherfuckers

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk-drunk motherfuckers"

[Verse 1: Hunter]

Up the creek without a paddle but we got Funkoars

Where's my beer? Cunt we drunk yours!

Sons of wars, I'm breaking tons of laws

It's fucking 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 fuck

With my head nearly touching my gut, throwing shit 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 shit 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

Massacres, breaking shit down like bad marriages

[Hook: Turntablism]

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk motherfuckers

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk-drunk motherfuckers"

[Sample]

"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 fucking street magician

Think that's dope? Well here's the best part

Raps are that phat my punchlines develop fucking stretch marks

It's the Oars and Hunter

Full of drunk mother fuckers, down the pints till we chunder

Sucker, 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 'cause underground groupies give head better

So make way for the mad sketchy cunt

I'm the type of guy that buys a sports car just to fuck a [?] slut

I'll test your luck when I'm gripping a mic

And I ain't a fan of red so paint your town certified

[Interlude]

1...2...3...4

[Verse 4: Sesta]

Never brag, never had to

Never boast 'cause 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: Turntablism]

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk motherfuckers

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk-drunk motherfuckers"

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk motherfuckers

"Funkoars" "Drunk motherfuckers"

"Drunk-drunk motherfuckers"