.[Verse 1]
Pull up to the mirror, staring at my face
Gotta chop-chop all the extra weight
I've beenâ
carryingâ
it for fourteen-hundredâ
and sixty days
Gotta, gotta, gotta cleanâ
my slate
[Pre-Chorus]
And I might as well just tell you while I'm drunk, yeah
.
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