Tonart: Db major
Verse 1
F
Eb
F
Dm
Three
blunts to
F
Dm
the head at 11am
on a Sunday morning
G
F
G
Dm
I gotta sleep in,
F
eventually I wake at three,
need a glass of water
Dm
G
Dm
G
Where was I last night, type disorder,
I'm hung way over,
Dm
G
my sense of humour is out of order
F
G
F
I just sit on the sofa,
scratch my crotch
Dm
G
Flipped through the newspaper
and sippin' a scotch
Eb
F
Lie around for a bit
then eat some corn chips
Dm
Fuck around in myspace
G
and look at some porn clips
C
F
Immune system tortured
to a successful
Dm
But now I gotta pay for what
G
Dm
liver's regretful
G
F
Had a mouth of the jet fuel
and wanted to fly
Dm
G
But now I feel like a bad boy ready to die
Dm
C
See at the end of the night
F
we were just getting started
Dm
G
Dm
No bones broken but still
G
F
I got plastered
Dm
C
Dm
C
Eaug
Chillin', straight chillin' baby,
C
G
on a Sunday
F
Fsus4
F
Dm
Yeah, I'm feelin'
G
F
a little bit better on a Sunday
Eb
F
Dm
I'm takin' Monday and Tuesday off,
C
G
C
I'm just gonna
G
F
chill on my Sunday
Fsus4
F
Dm
G
F
C
Ha ha ha ha, yeah
G
F
Cock a leaded selfie and I ain't doing it
Dm
The door's hanging by a hinge
G
but I ain't screwing it
C
G
Dm
F
Only human if I want to do nothing at all
Dm
So don't call or come by
G
because I won't answer the door
F
See I'm lazy, lazy like Tom Yorks
Dm
I wouldn't get out of bed
G
unless the shit was on fire
F
You know my shit is on fire blood
G
I leave the getting up at 4am shit to the
F
Dm
F
And hey, laborers,
stay away from my house
Dm
Jackhammer on the weak
G
and then get punched in the mouth
C
F
You wanna mess with my rights?
Well then I'll throw you a left
Dm
My grumpy on the Sunday Yarders
be the cause of your death
C
Dm
G
Dm
F
So you just gotta take it slow
like a driving lesson
Dm
Blessed on the holy day of rest,
Dm
F
Even God took a breather
after four days work
Dm
So you can catch me in my trackies
C
with a spliff and a smirk
G
F
Eb
Sing -a -la, ha -ha, yeah,
F
Dm
F
C
Eaug
yeah
C
G
F
On a Sunday, lazy,
Eb
F
Dm
C
blazy, uh -huh
G
F
Eb
F
On a Sunday, cup -a -tea,
Dm
C
G
C
newspaper, chillin'
G
F
Eb
F
Dm
On a Sunday, do not disturb,
you know, ha -ha
G
Dm
C
F
Ay, see I like to party
like a chemical brother
Dm
No kids, I'm all kids,
Dm
G
Dm
F
And what we wanna do
is smoke the marijuana
Dm
G
Dm
G
Till dawn, like off duty cops in Tijuana
Dm
F
No work ethic unless it's work I enjoy
Dm
Took your boy out of school
G
but couldn't school your boy
F
Did a degree in the HSC,
basically aced it
Dm
But couldn't suck a corporate dick
G
and swallow the paycheck
Dm
F
Seems like the smell of money
got a lot of you tasteless
The rhyme book has taken
Dm
Hip -Hop's my best friend,
forever doing me favours
C
G
So screw what the neighbours
F
might think about me always being home
Dm
I'm forever writing rhymes
G
unless I'm ripping up a show
F
F
It's the life that I lead,
three things that I need
Dm
C
My girl, my music and
a place to be free
Dm
F
G
F
Eb
On a Sunday, uh -huh,
F
Dm
C
yeah
Eaug
G
F
Chillin', uh, Sunday
Dm
Red eyes and shit, dirty skin and shit,
C
G
F
but you, on the Sunday
Eb
F
You knockin' at the door
Dm
but, no one's comin' man,
Dm
And then, it's back to sleep
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