Old No. 7 (feat. G-Eazy)

It's that old number 7, always got me feeling heavenly Fuck you me, you ain't finna have a drink with me There's dirty lies around here, there's dirty highs too And ain't no telling what the fuck a dirty mind do It's whiskey, baby, and we ain't fuckin' pop stars Fuckin' rock stars, no vodka with Rock Star There's no colors, and it's only black around the town Hold the wheel, I think I'm really fuckin' coming down Liability for the team, but what you expect They told me, "Finish your arms before you tat your neck" I said, "Finish your job before you tell me that" I'ma finish this drink and I ain't coming back This seven-fifty sour match to go and get this sour patch Problems always stand from the relationships of our past Thanks, Dad, it really means a lot How the fuck could I ever think I'd be something that you not, huh? Even if I've got a place to go And it's hard to ever call it home And it's hard to ever call you up See I'd rather drink all alone And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along Keep on living faster Only kids trying not to go out like Casper Every night plastered, a beautiful disaster Sorry that I did it, yea, I know I'ma bastard Yea, Jack Daniels taking pulls from a handle Straight to the head in a Supreme 5 panel Surrounded by the party and the drugs and the scandal Can't die before I get to see a Grammy on my mantle But the pace is fast and only speeding up Bottles in my hand, so I don't need a cup I should call my old girl come and clean me up But I called my dealer now I'm reing-up Yea, I'ma fuck up, yea, I know it's true Probably never learn to live the way the grown-ups do Bad decisions, fuck the standards that you hold me to Drink away what I'm going through, yeah And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along Drinking that whisky That old number 7 White lighter in pocket I'm going to heaven I'm rolling, I'm so in a hole it's upsetting My heart it is stolen, my soul is just different Drinking that whisky, that old number 7 White lighter in pocket, I'm going to heaven I'm rolling, I'm so in a hole, it's upsetting My heart it is stolen, my soul is just different And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along And that's that shit we're pouring up And here's a toast to fucking up So mom and dad, expect a call We've been sorry all along