Cell Phone (feat. Breezy Lovejoy & Wax)

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