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wasted - bill wailey lyrics

[verse 1]
we be in the car, switchin’ gears
we go to the party, sippin’ russian bears
my enemies and i buried the hatchet
we can have a party that so ratchet
smokin’ weed and drinkin’ lot of shots
don’t want people dancin’ like robots
took her to the bathroom and we f*ck
now you want next, i wish you good luck
music, b*tches, all night, we party
she ask if i love her, only partly
i only love my weed and my family
i think that you suck in mentality
i get drunk with my n*ggas, yeah
i see your booty jus’ got bigger, yeah
i don’t f*ck with no snitches, yeah
wanna f*ck a lot of b*tches, yeah
i see them b*tches wanna get all naked
i’m busy еatin’ cakes, yeah they bakеd
dope party, dope party, dope party, yeah
good s*x, good s*x, good s*x, yeah
[hook]
took a lot of vodka jus’ to make it here
maybe a young n*gga don’t wanna make it there
back home, i don’t want no f*ckin’ stress
but i’ll go back there anyways, more or less
wasted, don’t have records of f*ckin’ ass
that i tasted, i’ll never call my girl a lass
good drinks, good s*x, good weed, yeah
f*cked up, hungover, feelin’ sleepy, yeah

[verse 2]
woke up, headache, got a hangover
i’m sick, yeah, the drinks did takeover
woke up, next to a b*tch that i f*cked
she woke up, grabbed my d*ck and she sucked
don’t feel like gettin’ off my f*ckin’ bed
i see that my eyes jus’ turned red
so disabled that i can’t even walk
so f*cked up that i can’t even talk
i got up and ate six slices of bread, yeah
i never felt this so f*ckin’ scared, yeah
i see all of my n*ggas f*cked up, yeah
i bet that their b*tches stuck up, yeah
i forgot that i’m writin’ a test tomorrow
but how can i write it so f*ckin’ sorrow
well, if i gon’ fail this test, i’m gon’ fail it
now we stuck in my house ’cause of hail
[bridge]
anyways, wanna go commercial one day
jus’ to make some bands come my way
all and all, i’m the future of south african trap
prolly sum’ bad b*tches gon’ sit on my lap
now back to the song

[hook]
took a lot of vodka jus’ to make it here
maybe a young n*gga don’t wanna make it there
back home, i don’t want no f*ckin’ stress
but i’ll go back there anyways, more or less
wasted, prolly don’t records of f*ckin’ ass
that i tasted, i’ll never call my girl a lass
good drinks, good s*x, good weed, yeah
f*cked up, hungover, feelin’ sleepy, yeah

- bill wailey lyrics

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