| Got kinda high and uhh kinda drunk | 
| Beer drinkin, beer-beer drinkin, eight ball | 
| Chorus: repeat 4X | 
| Got kinda high and uhh kinda drunk | 
| Beer drinkin, beer-beer drinkin, eight ball | 
| Verse One: | 
| I’m sittin' at the bar with a hundred dollar bill | 
| The homies is runnin' late so I got some time to kill | 
| I’m peepin' out this freak in the booth in the corner | 
| I think I seen her rollin a Noble, nosin under and moanin | 
| Two hookers walked in and they was lookin' for a vic | 
| But they, kept on passin' me by coz they can recognize a trick | 
| Twenty minutes later and two double shots of yak | 
| I take a look up at the clock, now where the FUCK the homies at | 
| I feel my pagers on my hipbone, who could it be | 
| Cuz I done talked to everybody that I was 'sposed to see | 
| Hahaa! | 
| Now I know, the story is told | 
| And I don’t even call 'em back cuz they don’t know the homie cold | 
| I recieved a page my niggers from the phone in the back | 
| I got a wink from a fine ass sista dressed in black | 
| Another double shout of yak and now the room is spinnin' | 
| But that’s only the beginning, god damn! | 
| Verse Two: | 
| I take a walk out to the front to get myself some air and | 
| See if I see the homies, but they still ain’t there | 
| There’s a fool outside drunk and he want to get into it | 
| I was strapped I coulda killed him, but I didn’t do it | 
| I opted for the walk-away, watch the busta talk away | 
| So mister policeman, you can put your chalk away | 
| I mobb back in the club, and, kick it at my table | 
| Cause, niggas be acting stupid, and stupid shit is fatal | 
| The homies is hella late, and now I’m startin' to think | 
| Homegirl that gave me the wink from earlier just bought me a drink | 
| She’s sittin' at a stool at the other side of the bar | 
| Doing tricks with her tounge and a cherry like a porno star | 
| The club is gettin' packed and the party is jumpin | 
| Another double shot of yak and I’m on the dancefloor bumpin' | 
| She’s licking in my ear and, now I’m feeling faded | 
| It’s 11:35 and the homies still ain’t made it | 
| Verse Three: | 
| Now I’m on the dance floor with baby and, shit is gettin' hectic | 
| The big homey done erected, damn I’ve been affected | 
| By the funk in the boom and the booty in the room | 
| This ain’t the Commodores but this Brick House got me on zoom | 
| Now I’m mackin and struttin and asking baby wassup | 
| My name ain’t Everlast, but I can still make you jump | 
| Let’s, hope in the Q and go somewhere and kick it like some Trojans | 
| We can do a little drinkin, and do a little smoking | 
| When all of a sudden I start sweatin', my stomach starts bubblin' | 
| I hear earl coming, I think I’m in trouble *vomit sounds* | 
| Ahh shit, I got baby on her titties | 
| I guess there go my chances of gettin with her kitty | 
| I turn around and stumble away and there go the homies with | 
| Long ass trenchcoats on, laughing, sippin on 40's | 
| Now I’m in the back of my own car curled up like a punk | 
| Cuz I got too high and uhh, got too drunk | 
| SHIT! |