[Intro:]
Cla**ic (cla**ic)
Cla**ic (cla**ic)
[Verse 1: Trials]
Yeah, terrifying creature, size thirteen Nike sneakers
[?] is like (what?) and the hair is like Jesus
Smuggling the reefer, suspect smell
But it's a habit, got a habit like it's Dundee L, hell
[Verse 2: Sesta]
I'm at the flash lamp [?]
Did a cool song, great hook, sh** type
You've got a sh** wife and a sh** life
Seddy Capp died on Facebook, click like
[Verse 3: Hons]
This ain't clockwork orange
But Rick Soldier violence where the Hons jump on it
[?] smell of vomit from a Saturday night
Full time binge drinker at the salary [?]
[Verse 4: Trials]
It's like [?] policy, I dropped that toxic smell
X's [?] sh**, your mother s**s “what's in hell”
If I'm not back in five, tell my torrents off
Make sure your cat's alright, grab your [?]
[Hook 1: Trials]
Let's go on the road, three months, I'm gone
Got the shows packed out an I'm [?]
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
I've got a big fat box of free clothes that only fits
Kids [?] that's Peepshow you know
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
[Verse 5: Hons]
This is champagne ‘oars in the champagne room
With a big stack of chips and a IOU
(That's cla**ic) Party ‘til I'm higher than the graff scene
Womb start spitting, then cats try to attack me
[Verse 6: Trials]
It's like, oh no, windows up, roll past the po-po
In slo-mo, [?] like they were hobos
Somebody's mother said the ‘oars don't smash it
I've seen a kid [?] for sh**, f**ing cla**ic
[Verse 7: Sesta]
Ooh, I move boom f**ing [?]
The way you move, f**ing spastic
I'm gone crazy as the catholic
Your rhymes don't stink brother, turn it to the mattress
[Verse 8: Hons]
New sheets, same [?] old policy
Daz B, great guy, ‘oars commentary
Got a handy cam, thirty odd to a date
Swept from the gutter [?]
[Hook 2: Trials]
[?] working hard on your feet
To buy weed [?] police
Ah, man, that's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
I jumped the plane on the stage just before the show
Half the party at the club can't afford to go
Man, that's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
That's cla**ic (cla-cla**ic)
[Post-Hook: Trials]
Yeah, I got Dazza on the beat, that's cla**ic or what?
Yeah, Certified Wise, that's cla**ic as f**
Adelaide, SA, home of the badest
Funkoars on tour, guaranteed…oh
[Verse 9: Sesta]
I made the mess, uh, things I must confess, uh
Plus, I hate me with the you and I think lesser
None the less, I got the home maid to stress, uh
Bet you, centre the room and face mecca
[Verse 10: Hons]
Now, I better [?] ‘cause I don't trust the pilot
Car coming round, I paying silver like a pirate
Still broke, ‘Oars always go too far
Put the whole minibar on our old credit card
[Verse 11: Trials]
I'm freaking out now, it could be the wind
[?] talking ‘bout the [?]
Man, I'm losing it, Mr f**ing Trials [?] suited ‘em
On board, the plane across the valley [?]
[Verse 12: Sesta]
And the ash cloud grounded a plane
And then the hash cloud [?]
I got Saint Alma [?]
You like it and it's pirated, well, I ain't buying it, never
[Outro:]
Welcome to the worst nightmare of all
Reality