[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