Song | Drunk Dial f. Murs & Grieves |
Artist | Cunninlynguists |
Album | Strange Journey Volume Three |
Kno: | |
It's four o-clock on a Sunday morning | |
Who the hell is calling my phone? | |
Waking me up I'm stretching and yawning | |
If you had any sense you'd leave me alone | |
Natti: | |
Wee hours of the morning and word is bond | |
I’m in jail I need bail again, the word is bond | |
Not James in a tux with olives draped on my cup | |
With a dame all on me with healthy letters to cup | |
So what up? | |
Can you free me ‘fore my prints get back? | |
And they run em through the system and realize that I'm black | |
All I remember was the stripper then I faded to rack | |
Said her name was December than she sat on my lap | |
"Merry Crimmuh" | |
Liquor and higher power my witness | |
I thought fleeing The People was just a matter of fitness | |
With all these nice drinks, compliments of Dennis | |
Whoever the fuck that is | |
"Dennis is this!" | |
Two middle fingers up | |
"Dennis is this!" | |
Dennis tab maxed out on titties and fifths | |
Whoever the fuck Dennis, is Dennis is pissed! | |
Cus I don’t think that dude we was drinking with was Dennis at all, fam! | |
Grieves: | |
Ha, Yup, | |
im aware it’s four in the morning | |
but I just wanna tell you im drunk and im kinda horny | |
I know it gets annoying, but I been losing my grip | |
Every woman I talk to I treat like a fair piss and it’s a bitch | |
Mainly cuz I now consider you one | |
I wanna let you go but every time I seem to screw up | |
Now that’s the problem with the space that you occupy | |
It’s going great and then the thought of you would cross my mind | |
A box of wine and a carton of coffin nails will | |
Convince me now would be a great time for hate mailin’ | |
Like "Hey bitch! How the hell have you been? | |
Remember me? We were dating and you slept with my friends!" | |
I just thought that I’d remind you in case you ever forget it | |
And train yourself to believe that you're not a terrible wretch | |
ha | |
You broke my heart into like a million pieces | |
So here’s another dim-litted picture of my penis | |
Murs: | |
Whoa! | |
What the fuck is going on Grieves | |
You saved my number under the wrong name in your phone? | |
Is that a picture of your...? | |
I'ma pretend I didn't see that | |
All that rain got you suicidal up in Seatt...ohhhhh | |
You had to much to drink again | |
Whiskey & a cellphone ain't never gonna be your friend | |
You booze you lose, homie you been warned | |
You better off using your cellphone to watch porn | |
Grab some lotion & a napkin | |
Jack off off then pass out | |
All these drunk texts'll have you fucked off and ass out | |
I hope you black out before you do anymore damage | |
I checked your timeline, homie...why you Tweetin in Spanish? | |
I understand if this is what you gotta go through | |
But when you sober up I got some screenshots to show you | |
And Grieves, bro...you gonna be hella happy that all of them texts didn't go through |
Kno: | |
It' s four oclock on a Sunday morning | |
Who the hell is calling my phone? | |
Waking me up I' m stretching and yawning | |
If you had any sense you' d leave me alone | |
Natti: | |
Wee hours of the morning and word is bond | |
I' m in jail I need bail again, the word is bond | |
Not James in a tux with olives draped on my cup | |
With a dame all on me with healthy letters to cup | |
So what up? | |
Can you free me ' fore my prints get back? | |
And they run em through the system and realize that I' m black | |
All I remember was the stripper then I faded to rack | |
Said her name was December than she sat on my lap | |
" Merry Crimmuh" | |
Liquor and higher power my witness | |
I thought fleeing The People was just a matter of fitness | |
With all these nice drinks, compliments of Dennis | |
Whoever the fuck that is | |
" Dennis is this!" | |
Two middle fingers up | |
" Dennis is this!" | |
Dennis tab maxed out on titties and fifths | |
Whoever the fuck Dennis, is Dennis is pissed! | |
Cus I don' t think that dude we was drinking with was Dennis at all, fam! | |
Grieves: | |
Ha, Yup, | |
im aware it' s four in the morning | |
but I just wanna tell you im drunk and im kinda horny | |
I know it gets annoying, but I been losing my grip | |
Every woman I talk to I treat like a fair piss and it' s a bitch | |
Mainly cuz I now consider you one | |
I wanna let you go but every time I seem to screw up | |
Now that' s the problem with the space that you occupy | |
It' s going great and then the thought of you would cross my mind | |
A box of wine and a carton of coffin nails will | |
Convince me now would be a great time for hate mailin' | |
Like " Hey bitch! How the hell have you been? | |
Remember me? We were dating and you slept with my friends!" | |
I just thought that I' d remind you in case you ever forget it | |
And train yourself to believe that you' re not a terrible wretch | |
ha | |
You broke my heart into like a million pieces | |
So here' s another dimlitted picture of my penis | |
Murs: | |
Whoa! | |
What the fuck is going on Grieves | |
You saved my number under the wrong name in your phone? | |
Is that a picture of your...? | |
I' ma pretend I didn' t see that | |
All that rain got you suicidal up in Seatt... ohhhhh | |
You had to much to drink again | |
Whiskey a cellphone ain' t never gonna be your friend | |
You booze you lose, homie you been warned | |
You better off using your cellphone to watch porn | |
Grab some lotion a napkin | |
Jack off off then pass out | |
All these drunk texts' ll have you fucked off and ass out | |
I hope you black out before you do anymore damage | |
I checked your timeline, homie... why you Tweetin in Spanish? | |
I understand if this is what you gotta go through | |
But when you sober up I got some screenshots to show you | |
And Grieves, bro... you gonna be hella happy that all of them texts didn' t go through |