Cellphone Songtext

Woke up so dizzy
Drunk and hungover
Can't find my house keys
Who was the chauffeur
Got one shoe on, and not the slightest clue, where my cell phone is

What was the name, I was definitely on one
Ronda, Miranda, or Sandra?
Shouldn't have mixed that light with the dark rum
Now I'm in the bathroom, throwing up a lung

Gotta make a run for that Gatorade punch
Head pounding on the one like an 808 drum
Gotta grab Pho, hangover 101
It soaks it all up, you should know that bruh

Pocket full of numbers covered in weed crumbs
I'm a lover not a fighter, why my knuckles feel numb?
No pun intended but I really feel dumb--founded
On my neighbors front lawn throwing up

Seems last night I was acting like a fool
Wearing nothing but a hat and my birthday suit
I was smashed to the max on a work day too

But I looked overjoyed in my polaroid pics
With my mustache fresh looking like a koi fish
My swag turned up on that soulja boy shit
Feeling real good about my bad choices

Who in the world is the girl in my bed
Who's the dude on the couch with dreads
And why in the hell was I drinking so much
Shoulda stuck with the weed like Breezy told us

Now I'm looking for the Folgers, awake from a coma
Making my way through empty bottles of na
Follow the aroma, it leads to the doja
Roll up, smoke up, and do it all over

Friday night, just got paid
Brand new fit, clean boy shave
Feeling good, pregame, my place
The homies came through with a gang of fade

They said they're trying to get loose in a major way
So they sip grey goose no juice just straight
(What it do young buck, pour a cup) I'm straight
I'm waiting on the tree, I got fifty on the Z

Plus, I ain't even ate
Ya'll go heavy in the paint, I'll go heavy on the dank
You go heavy on the drink, and gon' end up on your face
Not me, not me

But I, don't think I'mma get my weed
No time soon I'mma have to proceed
To consume the first thing I see
A little OJ and another Belvadee

Two shots for her, two shots for me
The more that we booze, the less that we see
Now that is more booze than Apollo The-
-atre, up like I'm big on the tree, later

Outside pissing on the street, haters
Cops came through on the creep, gave me
A ticket and a mufuckin' speech
And meanwhile on repeat

"Shots, shots, shots, shots"
I'm thinking stop, it's not that deep, damn
Trying to give it all I got, got
And then I threw up in the god damn sink, that's weak

There's an unfamiliar ceiling in this place
With a very familiar feeling of disgrace
As my eyes open up for the first time after
Another blackout, castrophe, disaster

And captures the image of the rafters above
And the cold concrete on my back is enough
To wake me and make me stand up in amazement
Where is this unfinished basement
How'd I get here, I need to get home

But I can't leave until I find my key and my phone
Then I see a girl asleep and alone in the corner
I walk toward her not knowing for sure who she was
I just hoped that her phone was on
And I ain't spoken to my girl, I told her I would call her

Tapped on her cold shoulder, when she rolled over, I saw her, damn
My memory is better than I think
I remember last night, had her bent over the sink
In the bathroom, staring at her lower back tattoo
Flashback boom and I'm back to the new

Back to the what now, what am I gonna do
Picked up her phone and dialed my own number to
See if I could hear it ringing, and sure enough
It's on the floor of the bathroom with more of my stuff

Condom, keys and my wallet
An absent-minded strategic alcoholic
Strategic cause the condom wrapper was empty
Tip-toed out the door kinda gently

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