[Chorus]
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"

[Verse 1]
Don't you know the name already? It's Mr Trigga
Flip lyric in this figure and fashion with a knack
And talent for grabbin' and snappin' your Adam's apple, I will
So it's skill or be skilled, that's just the way that I feel
So I'ma let the beat drop, fuck a beatbox
I'd rather spit on these beats and clean MCs up like Detox
Creep in Reeboks, my file is extensive
A criminal record for melesting pens and pencils
The Funkoars, work on MPCs till late
The only breaks that I take are from the records I rape
It makes no sense to fight back, I brag on tracks
So off wax I can treat women like price tags
Now that's that, while you testin' me
With no skill, toys, accessories are sold separately
My flow feels iller than your quickest [?]
The arrogant fuck you love to hate

[Chorus]
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"

[Verse 2]
Ayo, I booze up with crew until we hit the floor
Now you can call me dumb but my favourite drink is yours
So when I'm at the bar, cold, drownin' in drinks
[?] with a rack, I ain't buyin' your shit
To the so-called "battle rappers" act like you ain't heard of me
The chance of that happenin' is like [?] servin' me
I roll with the dudes you did in a fight
Pillagin' mics [?] shows if you ain't killin' it right
With techniques to bruise beats complete when I speak
My speech what broke down peace in Middle East, uh
Christopher Reeve beats cripplin' your tape decks
A negative fuck that's only positive in AIDS tests
You know the style's certificially dope
For the same amount [?] double who don't
So I suggest you spit it out, now swallow your pride
And tell your girlfriend to give me a call

[Chorus]
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"

[Verse 3]
Your vocals need a touch up, fuck-face, the drunk mate's brakes
In the pads, programmin' slammin' drugs for rappin'
And it's happenin' when Funkoars are rockin' a spot
We make you have second thoughts like you're watchin' a clock
So understand we have plans to execute slick manoeuvres
On cats takin' cheap shots like Happy Hour shooters
My new moves–fuck them! They spit nothing
'Cause they couldn't respond if they were given written instructions
Let me tell you somethin', I ain't happy
With the way I see you stepped on, get stepped on, but I'm about
Dashin' out the flame with any over hyped open night
Soft shit, we rock this like Hilltop and Hospice
Kooks holdin' it down, gankin' and holdin' the crown
[?] are stained, like paint the trains
So save your brain and don't engage in freestyles
Signin' off, motherfucker

[Chorus]
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"
"Mr Trials" "Rockin' the place"
"You ain't–you ain't gonna get certified, respect"
"Simply, can't touch the verse"
"It's the Funkoars kid"