Pt. 2: So Niceee! Lyrics

No set. 578 Motherfucking degrees in this bitch what the fuck are you talking about? God damn it

Yo, I'm losing my mind seven ways from Sunday

Hop the runway, Still ill on a Monday

Maybe you'll be iller someday

Get enough play, see if you can run straight

I had to get it just from heavy study

Just from what little signal SETI could run me

Days when I was feeling very crummy

Under the streetlight, very sketchy honey

Now it's no more texting my dealer

Now I hit the dispo because it's realler

Still a old killer soul banana peeler

Ale swallowing nail polish stealer

Spin a roulette like Joey Wheeler

Knock that Herbie Hancock and freak her

Get in my groove like a vinyl record

Don't come in my kitchen you ain't tryna get burnt

In the streets I look like Audrey Hepburn

Shots ring, the wheel inside the sket turn

Get in my groove like a sharp needle

Regal Beagle looking like Don Cheadle

Shit is bugged for good like Weevil Underwood

Frank Underwood, get you done for good

Fake my own death like the Batman

Pussy fuck around and get locked in a trashcan

Get acquainted with the darkness

A well deserved rest when the dart hits

Moving serpentine, I'm a hard target

When I bite it, they gon' treat my grave like Margaret's

You just lost all your rap game privileges

Leave you flat in the desert like Winston and Fritz

For simple truths take it from a simpleton

Shit might shock you like Jimmy's fingertips

Come back and jumpstart your shit like roadside assistance

Exit the coffin, go find a victim