Sippin' on another beer
You can talk into the one, watch it go out the other ear
Because I don't wanna hear
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
Whisky is the devil, yeah
But she got me on that level and I'm feeling like a pimp
Smooth-ass, wood-grind wheels
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
Woah
You can find me on one, off a Whisky shot and a shotgun
Boom, in the shadow of the moonlight, while I'm making moves like a bus-boy, clocked in, tick-tock
Twelve-Thirty, this dirty martini burning, I'm talking the third-person jump up on the table blurting out (Yo Yo Yo)
"Yo who here wants to battle Lachow, we can settle it right now, throw this hat on the ground. I'll fucking rap til' this bottle of Jack Daniels' is out. Ah-hoo-hoo, I can't wait til' my album comes out."
Here's to snotty bartenders, a toast to the holy Whisky, a shot of enlightenment, with a chaser of loneliness. See I'm drunk as the next guy, but the difference is I might wanna fuck around (?), I wanna find a big booty buttery bimbo breaking bottle that'll bring another bottle to me
I'm like Darth Vader son, off John Jameson. I got Leia on my saber son, not chasing none. My soliloquies will liquidise til' I can hear my liver cry, not fit to drive and I'm inebriated, don't care wika-wika-wika-whisky faded
Sippin' on another beer
You can talk into the one, watch it go out the other ear
Because I don't wanna hear
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
Whisky is the devil, yeah
But she got me on that level and I'm feeling like a pimp
Smooth-ass, wood-grind wheels
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
Second verse, eleventh drink, second cig, another vodka, seventh hiccup, another hot-dog
I'm barely walking but still standing my ground, but feeling like the ground is slanted, gravity wants me knocked down
And I might be on, some other shit, like I just stepped off of the mothership. If I drink another I probably won't stomach it, but here we go (glug,glug,glug,cough,cough,cough)
I think I need a water, run around the bar taking selfies and photobombing, swimming in a river of Bombay and Tonic, with a couple chicken fingers and a Jalapeno popper, damn
King slowly turns disheveled man. High-fiving the devil, like I'm in a metal band
I never ran from a fight but I never won any either. I'm easily getting beat-up, but keep on stepping on sneakers
Danny Ocean off too many potions, not standing too well, off Shockers and Daniels
I monologue with beer-goggles on, til' I can't find the street my apartment's on. I'm belligerent, but don't push me dog, I'm gone, witchu-witchu-witchu drinking on
Sippin' on another beer
You can talk into the one, watch it go out the other ear
Because I don't wanna hear
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
Whisky is the devil, yeah
But she got me on that level and I'm feeling like a pimp
Smooth-ass, wood-grind wheels
When it's half-past twelve, and I'm half-past gone
