CunninLynguists, Grieves, Murs - Drunk Dial lyrics

Operator here's my dime connect me please
I know that she's at home

It's four o-clock on a Sunday morning
Who the hell is calling my phone?
Waking me up I'm stretching and yawning
If you had any sense you'd leave me alone

Wee hours of the morning and word is bond
I’m in jail I need bail again
The word is bond not James in a tux with
Olives draped on my cup
With a dame all on me
With healthy letters to cup so what up?
Can you free me ‘fore my prints get back?
And they run em through the system
And realize that I'm black
All I remember was the stripper
Then I faded to rack
Said her name was December than
She sat on my lap "Merry Crimmuh"
Liquor and higher power my witness
I thought fleeing The People was
Just a matter of fitness
With all these nice drinks
Compliments of Dennis
Whoever the fuck that is "Dennis is this!"
Two middle fingers up "Dennis is this!"
Dennis tab maxed out on titties and fifths
Whoever the fuck Dennis is, Dennis is pissed!
Cus I don’t think that dude we was
Drinking with was Dennis at all, fam!

It's four o-clock on a Sunday morning
Who the hell is calling my phone?
Waking me up I'm stretching and yawning
If you had any sense you'd leave me alone

Ha, Yup im aware it’s four in the morning
But, I just wanna tell you im
Drunk and im kinda horny
I know it gets annoying
But I been losing my grip
Every woman I talk to I treat like
A therapist and it’s a bitch
Mainly cuz I now consider you one
I wanna let you go
But every time I seem to screw up
Now that’s the problem with the
Space that you occupy
It’s going great and then the thought
Of you would cross my mind
A box of wine and a
Carton of coffin nails will
Convince me now would be a
Great time for hate mailin’
Like "Hey bitch! How the hell have you been?
Remember me? We were dating and
You slept with my friends!"
I just thought that I’d remind you
In case you ever forget it
And train yourself to believe that
You're not a terrible wretch ha
You broke my heart into like a million pieces
So here’s another dim-litted picture
Of my penis

Whoa! What the fuck is going on Grieves
You saved my number under the
Wrong name in your phone?
Is that a picture of your?
I'ma pretend I didn't see that
All that rain got you
Suicidal up in Seattohhhhh
You had to much to drink again
Whiskey and a cellphone ain't never
Gonna be your friend
You booze you lose, homie you been warned
You better off using your
Cellphone to watch porn
Grab some lotion & a napkin
Jack off then pass out
All these drunk texts'll have you
Fucked off and ass out
I hope you black out before
You do anymore damage
I checked your timeline
Homiewhy you Tweetin in Spanish?
I understand if this is what
You gotta go through
But when you sober up I got
Some screenshots to show you
Grieves, bro trust me
And you gonna be hella happy that all
Of them texts didn't go through

It's four o-clock on a Sunday morning
Who the hell is calling my phone?
Waking me up I'm stretching and yawning
If you had any sense you'd leave me alone

Ooh! Ahh! That's the angle
Click she's gonna love that one