Mama Said Be Nice

[Intro] Mama said… be nice… Or you might get shot… [Verse 1] Mama cornered me in the kitchen at 2 a.m., fridge light buzzing Said, “Baby, some boys got wires crossed in their skull, buzzing They’ll show you their playlist full of songs that scream ‘end it’ Then laugh when you ask if they’re okay, like it’s nothing.” She crushed her cigarette in the sink, eyes tired and red “Tease a boy who’s already bleeding and you’ll end up dead They smile like it’s cute but the safety’s already off Be gentle with the sad boys… or the hallway’s getting hosed off.” [Chorus] Mama said be nice to the sad boys Or you might get shot They wear their crazy like a second skin, tight and hot One wrong giggle, one “just cheer up” shot And your name’s on the news before the sun comes up Run, run, run — better run from the fallout Be nice… be nice… or you might get shot [Post-Chorus / Heavy Drop] Be nice to the sad boys Or you might get shot They got razors in their pockets and storms in their thoughts Smile when they cry, don’t poke at the rot ‘Cause sad boys go quiet… then they paint the whole block [Verse 2] I met him in the parking lot, hoodie up, eyes like black holes He played me voicemails of his mom crying on the phone Said the pills don’t work and the voices call him “weak” Then asked if I’d still kiss him if he smelled like bleach. I snorted, told him “Dude, stop being so damn dramatic” His face went blank like the screen when the power’s erratic Mama’s voice looped in my head while the streetlights hummed “Be nice to the sad boys… or your body’s going numb.” [Chorus] Mama said be nice to the sad boys Or you might get shot They wear their crazy like a second skin, tight and hot One wrong giggle, one “just cheer up” shot And your name’s on the news before the sun comes up Run, run, run — better run from the fallout Be nice… be nice… or you might get shot [Rap Verse – raw, half-spoken, slightly distorted male voice, urgent and breaking] I’m the sad boy, yeah, the one she warned you ‘bout 3 a.m. texts, “I’m fine” but my brain’s checked out You laughed at my playlist, called my scars aesthetic Now I’m counting ceiling cracks, feeling pathetic Wrote you dumb poems with blood under my nails You said “grow up” — that lit the fuse, no details Demons high-fived when you rolled your eyes Now the barrel’s warm and the room’s full of flies Mama was right… be nice or get popped I’m still here breathing but the good part stopped Sirens taste like metal, story’s already locked Next girl, watch your mouth… or the trigger gets cocked. [Final Chorus – bigger, layered, almost manic] Mama said be nice to the sad boys Or you might get shot They wear their crazy like a second skin, tight and hot One wrong giggle, one “just cheer up” shot And your name’s on the news before the sun comes up Run, run, run — better run from the fallout Be nice… be nice… or you might get shot [Outro – fading echoes] Be nice… be nice… Or you might… get shot… (Mama said… Mama said…)