Mr. Not Nice
I don't fuck with niggas, that's why I be solo dolo (Uh)
Big Roro keep that Notre Dame on him, no Quasimodo
What?
Oh, y'all niggas (Yeah)
(Trademark!)
What? What? What? (Bitch)
This a molly, mix it in your sprite (What?)
We gon' send him somewhere in the skies
Every consequence come with a price (Yeah)
That's my nickname, not nice (Bitch)
He ain't breathin', fuck him, let him die (What?)
We go son of Sam, poltergeist
And we gon' make shirts, nigga, what's your size?
Rockin' your dead homies like they mine (Yeah)
Life full of chances, nigga, roll your dice (What? What?)
Bro is a tattle teller, do him right
You not a rat, yeah, you a mice
Oh, you didn't get her back, nigga? Big surprise
I don't fuck with niggas, that's why I be solo dolo (What?)
Big Roro keep that Notre Dame on him, no Quasimodo
I was just broke, had no love in me
Hit the corner store, only a buck fifty
Had my brother Mani and lil' cuz with me
Ma said, "Go to the store, get a Dutch for me"
Came out that bitch, had some Takis and gum with me
Shared the bag and let them eat the crumbs with me
That's when I see four grown niggas walk up to me
Asking where is my hands and wassup with it (What?)
Go back home or this shit gon' get ugly
I was a jit but ain't runnin' from nothing
Shots fired, that's the end of discussion
Cooked the opposition but that shit was disgusting
Yeah, bro drink that purple drink, no Robitussin
She gave me super head, call her concussion
Bad little foreign ho, she speakin' Russian
Russian roulette 'cause we play while we clutchin'
We can't leave no witness, period, no sentence
Guap, we tremendous (What?) , heavyweight liftin'
Lil' nigga, you don't fit in (Bitch)
Wrist work transcendent (What?)
I think you should change your attitude
Nah bitch, you should mind your business, lil' bitch, ayy
This a molly, mix it in your sprite
We gon' send him somewhere in the skies
Every consequence come with a price (What?)
That's my nickname, not nice (Bitch)
He ain't breathin', fuck him, let him die (Fuck)
We go son of Sam, poltergeist
And we gon' make shirts, nigga, what's your size?
Rockin' your dead homies like they mine (Damn)
Dc caught him body, movin' like a zombie
Eatin' calamari, singin' la-dee-da-dee (Boom)
Feelin' froggy, leap, you meeting God almighty
Toilet dumpster trash, you niggas hella potty
Bro got thirty hoes, sittin' in the lobby
Skrrt off on they ass in a new Bugatti (Woo, woo)
I got juice, lil' baby, Scotty way too hottie (Woo, woo)
We just blew your mama rent inside of Follies (Woo)
She get on her knees and pray to cock almighty
She need stamina, we got hella molly (Goddamn)
That's a perfect fuckin' mix, abugatti
Skrrt off, shootin' through the roof, Maserati (Oh my God)
This a molly, mix it in your sprite
We gon' send him somewhere in the skies
Every consequence come with a price
That's my nickname, not nice
He ain't breathin', fuck him, let him die
We go son of Sam, poltergeist
And we gon' make shirts, nigga, what's your size?
Rockin' your dead homies like they mine
Compositores: Daijon Cotty Davis (Dc The Don), Tyler Maline, Matthew Bell
ECAD: Obra #45798967