Where Is My 40? - MC Chris

Paroles de la chanson Where Is My 40?:

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40

Where are the people

Eager to leave

And commit acts of evil

Stuck at my job

I hear there’s a rager

Cell phone’s exploding

And c4 in my pager

I hear they be ladies

Wearing tight clothing

Hopefully somebody

There will be holding

Late to the date

That’s great and I’m golden

Can’t wait to escape

And be done with these doldrums

Can’t wait to be wasted

And plastered and puking

Can’t wait to debate

Which country’s need nuking

Can’t wait to have vomit

And blood on my breath

Can’t wait to digest

If there’s anything left

Must on my door

And take out the trash

Do all my chores

Impossibly fast

Be in the bash

Pop open a colt

Five extra ounces

Of glorious gold

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40

The dude at the deli

Is smelly and smarmy

Sells me a 40

I’m horny for party

I buy party mix

The kind that’s generic

I also buy condoms

Them ones that embarrass

Alcoholism

Has millions of perks

Traditional trove

Of bubbles and burps

My Irish ancestry

Has left me with lager

I guess I’m a jigger

Instead of a jogger

The caterwaul’s cusp

The bacchanal’s brink

I’m ready for belching

And barfing and stink

Let’s howl at the moon

And croon while we drink

Let’s wake up the wind

And begin like I’m Link

Anticipation

My heart is beating

This side is odd

This side is even

The numbers decrease

Smokers are mingling

Every inch

Of my body is tingling

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40

They duce (shooters)

There’s a world they call shots

Whiskey and bourbon

Was served so was schnapps

Goldschlager’s exciting

There’s little gold flakes

Aftershock shots

And I’ll puke on your face

Buttery Nipple

Liquid Cocaine

Who’s the fuck

Keeps loading up trays

Tomahawk Pickleback

Then Kamikazes

I feel no pain

Nothing can stop me

Where was my stuff

It was right here

My shitty mix

And my bag of beer

Now where did I place it

Where has it gone

If somebody drank it

Then fuckers it’s on

Not in the fridge

Start looking at culprits

Ganker is guzzling

Down my indulgence

Imagine the bottle

The bottom with backwash

Say that it’s somewhere

Or I’m getting my hacksaw

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40, 40

I can’t find my 40