Old No. 7

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