drunk dial
cunninlynguists
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
not james in a tux with olives draped on my cup
with a dame all on me with healthy letters to cup
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