Pick up the phone, Cody, please
I am tired of leaving you messages
And you only answer the ones that are yes-men messages, where I'm like
Oh my God, that song was amazing! Blah, blah, blah
You hired me on as co-executive supervising producer or whatever
Because I funded a big chunk of this album
Stop calling it an album, by the way. It's an EP, okay
This is not a studio album, okay
You recorded this on a cheap microphone that I bought you at home, okay
There's background noise in the songs
But the songs are written well, except I'm trying to talk to you about Incel
Did you write that in 10 minutes?
It feels like you're so full of yourself now
That you think anything you write is just the Midas touch
It's golden drop-a-lets, you know
Like, what?
Little boy, little boy, little boy, run
I'm terrified
Okay, that song belongs in a trailer to some shitty horror movie
Like a remake from a '70's horror movie that nobody watched in the first place
And congratulations, you've written the theme song to a movie that I hope never exists
It sucks
Alright, nothing in that song even rhymes, like, except for run and gun
But I don't know, it's just..
You're trying to evoke some imagery of an angry incel
But it's just, it feels like you shat it out
But I'm getting a little sick of you treating me like you did when you were on drugs
Have you relapsed or something?
Do you remember that one time I loaned you a chunk of money
The day your son was born because you said
Oh, I spent all my money on diapers, I need to get something to eat?
So I CashApped you some money, or however
And you went, and you spent it on drugs and abandoned your son for a year
You're a piece of shit, Cody
Okay? You're an asshole
I thought you were better, okay
Why don't you take your sobriety chip and throw it in the garbage?
Call me back. Please
I'm trying not to get angry
Ooh, goddammit
Jagtooth - A Call From a Friend (Skit) Lyrics
Jagtooth - A Call From a Friend (Skit) Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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English
Pick up the phone, Cody, please
I am tired of leaving you messages
And you only answer the ones that are yes-men messages, where I'm like
Oh my God, that song was amazing! Blah, blah, blah
You hired me on as co-executive supervising producer or whatever
Because I funded a big chunk of this album
Stop calling it an album, by the way. It's an EP, okay
This is not a studio album, okay
You recorded this on a cheap microphone that I bought you at home, okay
There's background noise in the songs
But the songs are written well, except I'm trying to talk to you about Incel
Did you write that in 10 minutes?
It feels like you're so full of yourself now
That you think anything you write is just the Midas touch
It's golden drop-a-lets, you know
Like, what?
Little boy, little boy, little boy, run
I'm terrified
Okay, that song belongs in a trailer to some shitty horror movie
Like a remake from a '70's horror movie that nobody watched in the first place
And congratulations, you've written the theme song to a movie that I hope never exists
It sucks
Alright, nothing in that song even rhymes, like, except for run and gun
But I don't know, it's just..
You're trying to evoke some imagery of an angry incel
But it's just, it feels like you shat it out
But I'm getting a little sick of you treating me like you did when you were on drugs
Have you relapsed or something?
Do you remember that one time I loaned you a chunk of money
The day your son was born because you said
Oh, I spent all my money on diapers, I need to get something to eat?
So I CashApped you some money, or however
And you went, and you spent it on drugs and abandoned your son for a year
You're a piece of shit, Cody
Okay? You're an asshole
I thought you were better, okay
Why don't you take your sobriety chip and throw it in the garbage?
Call me back. Please
I'm trying not to get angry
Ooh, goddammit
I am tired of leaving you messages
And you only answer the ones that are yes-men messages, where I'm like
Oh my God, that song was amazing! Blah, blah, blah
You hired me on as co-executive supervising producer or whatever
Because I funded a big chunk of this album
Stop calling it an album, by the way. It's an EP, okay
This is not a studio album, okay
You recorded this on a cheap microphone that I bought you at home, okay
There's background noise in the songs
But the songs are written well, except I'm trying to talk to you about Incel
Did you write that in 10 minutes?
It feels like you're so full of yourself now
That you think anything you write is just the Midas touch
It's golden drop-a-lets, you know
Like, what?
Little boy, little boy, little boy, run
I'm terrified
Okay, that song belongs in a trailer to some shitty horror movie
Like a remake from a '70's horror movie that nobody watched in the first place
And congratulations, you've written the theme song to a movie that I hope never exists
It sucks
Alright, nothing in that song even rhymes, like, except for run and gun
But I don't know, it's just..
You're trying to evoke some imagery of an angry incel
But it's just, it feels like you shat it out
But I'm getting a little sick of you treating me like you did when you were on drugs
Have you relapsed or something?
Do you remember that one time I loaned you a chunk of money
The day your son was born because you said
Oh, I spent all my money on diapers, I need to get something to eat?
So I CashApped you some money, or however
And you went, and you spent it on drugs and abandoned your son for a year
You're a piece of shit, Cody
Okay? You're an asshole
I thought you were better, okay
Why don't you take your sobriety chip and throw it in the garbage?
Call me back. Please
I'm trying not to get angry
Ooh, goddammit
Writer: Robert Eddlemon
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid