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
 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