[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