Lyrics Old No. 7 - G-Eazy, Jez Dior

Old No. 7

It’s that old number 7, always got me feeling heavenly
Fuck you mean 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 stem 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, yea
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