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