Mr. Not Nice

Album cover art for "Mr. Not Nice" by DC The Don

DC The Don - Rap, USA

Mr. Not Nice

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Lyrics

[Intro] 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) [Chorus] 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) [Verse 1] 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 (Mice) Oh, you didn't get her back, nigga? Big surprise (Grr, grr) I don't fuck with niggas, that's why I be solo dolo, uh (What?) Big RoRo keep that Notre Dame on him, no Quasimodo (Grr) 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" (Get) Came out that bitch, had some Takis and gum with me (Ha) Shared the bag and let them eat the crumbs with me (Yeah) 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 (Fah, fah, fah) Cooked the opposition but that shit was disgusting (Yeah) Bro drink that purple drink, no Robitussin She gave me super head, call her concussion (Huh?) 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' (Ha) 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 [Chorus] This a molly, mix it in your sprite We gon' send him somewhere in the skies (Huh?) 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) [Verse 2] 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 (Ayy, ayy, ayy, grr-ahh) Bro got thirty hoes, sittin' in the lobby Skrrt off on they ass in a new Bugatti (Woo) I got juice, lil' baby, Scotty way too hottie (Woo, woo) We just blew your mama rent inside of Follies (Woo, yeah) 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, ayy) [Chorus] 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

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Credits

Writers
  • Trademark
  • DC The Don