TINY GLOWING SCREENS Pt. 3 Music by Kush Mody Ft

Home , Ammo (musician), Be Nice, Errbody, George Watsky, Quality Control Music

TINY GLOWING SCREENS Pt. 3 Music by Kush Mody ft. Camila Recchio & Danny McClain Lyrics by George Watsky

VERSE 1 A min G D min F G A min G D min F G

Vocals b 4 & 4 ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b 4 œ. nœ œ n˙ œ. nœ œ n˙ & 4 œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ Piano œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ 4 œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ ? b 4 œ ˙ œ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙

A min G D min F G A min G D min

Vox. & b ’ ’ ’ ’ 45 ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 4 ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b œ. œ œ 5 n˙ Œ 4 œ. œ œ & œ. nœ œ œ ˙ 4 ˙ ˙ 4 œ. nœ œ œ ˙ w Pno. œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙ w œ nœ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ? b œ œ ˙ 45 Œ 4 œ ˙ w ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ w

A min G D min F G A min G D min F G A min G D min

Vox. & b ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 45

œ. œ œ n˙ œ. œ œ n˙ œ. œ œ 5 & b œ. nœ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. nœ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. nœ œ œ ˙ 4 Pno. œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙ œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ? b œ ˙ œ ˙ œ ˙ 45 œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙

F G A min C/G D min Bb G D min

Vox. 5 4 5 4 & b 4 ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 4 ’ ’ ’ ’ 4 ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ’ ’ ’ ’ Freeze freeze freeze

b 5 ˙ n˙ Œ 4 œ œ œ ˙ 5 ˙ n˙ Œ 4 œ œ œ œ ˙ w & 4 ˙ ˙ 4 œ. œ ˙ 4 ˙ ˙ 4 . œ ˙ w Pno. ˙ œ. œ œ œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ ? b 45 Œ 4 œ ˙ 45 ˙ Œ 4 œ œ œ ˙ w ˙ ˙ œ. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ. œ ˙ w

Poem Bridge Nothing matters I want to hear the church bells ring So it doesn’t matter nothing matters I want to see the fog roll in And while you be, be true I don’t mind the muddy water And if you won’t, fuck you I don’t mind the ocean wind Burn your clothes Show me I’m alive right now Open the wine Even if you gotta prick this skin Close your eyes Open up your eyes (x4) Freeze time Verse 2 Verse 1 Some days I throw my hands up like this shit right here You’re officially welcome to grab your crotches is hopeless Synchronize your watches and pour us a couple scotches but today I throw my hands up like this shit right here’s People still as statues can’t catch you, turn pockets empty the dopest If they’re packed with plenty move some to ones lacking I’ll never sew my family’s holes up saying hocus pocus any So I focus love on what is whole and chase my magnum while I take a crack at hacking the bank to jack em to opus cover high debts There’s so much more life before I leave this skin behind You’re screening floating bullets with a butterfly net me if there’s any screaming Yeah, right now I’m feeling finer than Aaliyah in the 90s pause it and cut the out sound Yeah, today I’m feeling firmly like my faith could never deposit the slugs underground burn me I’m positive that we don’t fuck around like I’m apt to move that mountain just by glaring at it no we go scooping up the diesel that’s leaking a sinking sternly tanker San Francisco used to seem bigger than Jupiter forever stuck at anchor like beetles get stuck in amber From the view of an atom the human body’s a universe halted like the thaw of the iceberg that shoulda sank her how impossibly big it be halted right beside the temperature spike and the spread this symmetry of cancer this brutality and all my peoples’ engagements and babies my friends and beauty and synergy are making and beyond what we’ll live to see We quit getting lamer, days quit getting later, life quits I know nothing limit me being labor just take everything ever quick— you should come through to our party and we are that dude bring your crew bring an army times infinity youth is inside of the heart, the future can never harm me We’re never tardy (freeze, freeze, freeze) Late or early don’t worry we’ll wait cause we’re in no hurry to see those pearly gates

I sit outside and watch the pigeon shit and tiny airplanes hanging in the sky and then I hit a McCartney show and trip off how his arm is superglued to his guitar and then I enjoy the lovely view and stand there for a month or two my headphones looping Love Me Do on repeat Paul might not die if we try to wall off this diorama we’ll buy all the time we want and then spend it all to Move this crowd to join as converts to the church of blessed concerts and then conjure up some conversation Yes, I’m proud my country is my heart and so in every combination we all rep a common nation That is how I know that all we lepers and we shepherds join together now in holy congregation, everybody stop right now! TALKING TO MYSELF Music by Julien Le & Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

A min E min7 F Maj7 INTRO

Vocals 4 & 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & 4 Piano 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ

VERSE 1 A min G D min C F

Vox. . . & [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ w w w ˙ ˙ w w ˙ ˙ w & . w . Pno. w & . w w ˙ w . ˙ ˙ w

A min G D min C F

Vox. & . ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & . œ œ œ œ . Pno. œ œ œ œ œ œ & . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ

CHORUS A min A min/G D/F# F Maj7

Vox. Œ j ‰ ‰ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ Have you felt a litœ - tle off to - day œ Hadœ œa lot to say butœ woundœ upœ talkœ - ing toœ your - œself œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & Pno. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ#œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ

Verse 1 Verse 2 one day you opened up your eyes inside of you had a little spot inside a world where you been going through a lot inside a universe you didn’t get to choose wanna shove it to the bottom you didn’t get to pick the rules or pick the past but a trouble gonna bubble to the top or set the pace then the bubble gonna pop or cast the cast and crew and the hustle never ever gonna stop you didn’t get to pick your starting place cause you get up in the morning get ahead and though it was a race you didn’t understand then get to bed and then you do it all again you simply lined up on the blocks and when the until the moment that you drop pistol popped you ran you need a plot — what you wanna witness and when you tripped and dropped you picked with this life you got yourself up off the ground you kicked and fought and picked your scabs trynna get up in your skin and pick this lock and knew you had to pick a plan to end what that ticking clock you began lets you know that bitch you got these situa- As you got older there were days of cold sur- tions witchu render issues someone fit to quick should sit you Days of shrugged whatevers folded in with should down to talk days of shocking splendor ever wonder who’s the crazy the one? but as time advanced the lovely days were cov- people walking to work as if nothing is off ered up from view but if a person really got it they would be by an advancing melancholy haze that hovered cracking a bottle on somebody’s head and near the dew looting from shops Yet there were moments are there times you’re alone now when no- there were these pure arresting moments when body’s home you stepped outside your head but you walk around muttering under your outside your pain breath second guessing shit outside control saying goddammit goddammit goddammit outside the bullshit just whispering soft? out of body do you ever get lost, deep in your thoughts, out of rage tripping when you think about the cost of see- outside the need to get it ing this through? get it? when you tie your stomach into knots that you you will never get it don’t know how to undo? that’s okay but do you ever have another moment after that Chorus when you can see Have you felt a little off today? there’s no one way this has to be? Had a lot to say or maybe that’s just me But wound up talking to yourself? I’ve been hunting for a kindly ear But couldn’t find one near And wound up talking to myself CHEMICAL ANGEL Music by Julien Le Lyrics by George Watsky

C G B F C G B F VERSE 1 b b

Vocals œ 4 ‰ œ ‰ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ I got œa year's sup - ply ofœ cap - sulesœ I got a bot - tle full of friends cap - sules full of friends full of friends full of

C G Bb F A min E min7 Bb F

Vox. j œ ‰ ≈ j ‰ Œ Ó & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ They're al - waysœ right a - round J J to come showœ me the town J J de - li - vered through a ﬁl - tered lens œ friends a - round the town

C G sus4 G Bb F C G sus4 G Bb F

Vox. œ œ Œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ & ‰ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ Myœ docœ - torœ saysœ I'mœ beœ - ingœ reckœ - lessœ Thatœ quitœ - ing'sœ risœ - kyœ forœ myœ healthœ reck - less And I'll fuck up my life real bad

C G sus4 G Bb F A min E min7 Bb F

Vox. & ‰ ‰ œ œ œ ≈ œ Œ ‰ ≈ r j ‰ Œ Ó œ œ œ œ œ œ R œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ But if I had to choose to choose I know I'd ra-ther lose my life than have to lose my self CHORUS A min C Bb F/A G min F 3fr.

Vox. j Ó œ œ ‰ œ bœ œ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ Chem - i - cal an - - gel com - fort I crave J Com - fort I crave

F C/E D min C A min C

Vox. œ œ Ó œ œ œ œ ‰ & œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Don't come a - round no more I'm al - read - y saved com - fort I crave Bb F/A G min F F C/E D min C 3fr.

Vox. bœ œ œ œ & œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙ AlJ - read - y saved al - read - y saved VERSE 2 C G Bb F C G

Ó Vox. ‰ ‰ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ I'd like usœ to spend some œa - lone timeœ But if I slide in - to a zone œ just you and me

Verse 1 I got a year’s supply of capsules I got a bottle full of friends (full of friends, full of friends, full of friends) They’re always right around (around) to come show me the town (the town) Delivered through a filtered lens My doctor says I’m being reckless (reckless) That quitting’s risky for my health (and I’ll fuck up my life real bad) But if I had choose (to choose) I know I’d rather lose my life Than have to lose myself Chorus Chemical angel comfort I crave (x3) Don’t come around no more I’m already saved (x3) Verse 2 I’d like us to spend some alone time (just you and me) but if I slide into a zone (down and then down, down and then down and then down and then down) don’t take it personal (please don’t) you gotta understand my brain has got a mind of its own I don’t know if I’m close to drowning (deeper than anyone on the planet has ever been under the sea) Or if I’m finally free (gotta get up and fly, get up so high, I’ma get up higher than a speeding bullet up in the sky) I touch my artery (and watch) And watch my fingertips bob up and down like buoys at sea LITTLE SLICE Music by Frans Mernick & Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

G#min7 G#m11 A/D# E 6 INTRO VERSE 1 & 2 4fr. 11fr. 11fr.

Vocals # # # ## 4 ∑ . & 4 [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ # j j ## # 4 œ œ œ œ . œ . œ ˙ œ. œ ˙ & # 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œœ. œ ˙ nœ. œ ˙ Piano œ ˙ # ? ## # 4 . j j # œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ. .

CHORUS

G#min7 G#m11 A/D# E 6 G#min7 G#m11 A/D# E 6 4fr. 11fr. 11fr. 4fr. 11fr. 11fr.

Vox. #### & # ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ œ œ œ œ œ Œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ I'mœ œa grou-pie to the good life Look-ing for a taste of pa - ra - œdise œ œ œ Till the muh - fuck - in sun rise So ma - ny folks I love right here But it

G#min7 G#m11 A/D# E 6 4fr. 11fr. 11fr.

Vox. # # # ## Œ ≈ ‰ . ∑ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j I don't need the whole pie œ Just want to have my lit - tle sliceœ œ has - n't been a fun night Un - til this shit gets kin - da weird

G#min7 D#min7 F#min7 G#min7 D#min7 F#min7 4fr. 4fr.

# # # ## j j j j ≈ nœ œ œ ≈ & œ. œ œ. œ w œ. œ œ. œ ˙ œ œ œ Pno. œ. œ œ. nœ w œ. œ œ. nœ ˙ j j ? # # œ. j œ w œ. j œ ˙ # ## œ œ. œ œ. ≈ nœ œ œ ≈ œ. œ œ. œ w œ. œ œ. œ ˙ œ œ œ

G#min7 D#min7 F#min7 G#min7 D#min7 F#min7 B 7sus4 4fr. 4fr. 4fr.

# # # ## ‰ j j j j j & œ œ œ. œ w œ. œ œ œ œ w Pno. œ œ œ. nœ w œ. œ œ nœ œ w j ? # # œ j œ. j j œ w # ## ‰ œ œ. œ w œ œ œ œ w œ œ œ. œ w œ. œ œ œ J

Verse 1 Chorus (x 2) and the clouds are red and pink like they’re Verse 3 wearing a tube of lipstick I got a stylish private island inside of my mind the sun is dimming while dipping a toe into the the size of Hawaii Pacific and when I’m vibing you’re likely to find Just gimme a hot Jacuzzi me deep in my psyche a spliff and we’ll watch a movie hiding out peeping a flying V of neon pelicans I’m spiffy man in a jiffy I’m lifted and living filling the psychedelic horizon like groovie wow, what just happened? I’ll please have what he is having Chorus And how can I come ride that wave? I’m a groupie to the good life don’t give a damn if I’m damp I dance in the looking for a taste of paradise rain I don’t need the whole pie I decided to celebrate like da sky is dumping just wanna have my little slice champagne on me paint every clap of thunder as heaven popping Verse 2 a bottle I found the fountain of youth and went skinny jump in and paddle the deepest puddles dipping up in it strap on my goggles I pick up the lucky pennies epiphanies every I gotta seek what I lack minute when I’m weak, gotta act I run the money to coinstar and with the cash I’m a freak, it’s a fact from the ticket but I can’t say that I mind I snatch my homies whatever they want at Den- gotta leave those thoughts behind ny’s and kick it And I hop in my car and I bob in my seat till the mothafucking sun rise when I’m dropping to the beat as I mob the so many folks I love right here beach but it hasn’t a been a good night and I stop and I park at the top of a cliff in the until the shit gets kinda weird dark and I’m digging on the stars in the sea shining like a fistful of diamonds that somebody went and threw into the sky but they ricochet off and a couple of em fell into the water and they sink the bottom and I think that I saw some but I blink and I lost em and I drink in the awesome view infinite kilometers of water and the tiny ships moving across em if I’m getting money then I get it while I can but if I’m not I better live it up and dammit I demand to give it every single breath I got inside of me and try to be the man Chorus (x2) SPRINGTIME IN NEW YORK Music by Frans Mernick & Nick Brown Lyrics by George Watsky

Vocals 4 . . & 4 . [SPOKEN’ ’WORD] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

Guitar 4 . Œ ‰ œ œ Œ Œ ‰ œ œ Œ . & 4 . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ .

Guitar T 5 5 5 5 A . 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 3 3 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 3 3 . B . 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 .

Mister Softee’s back the block under attack frozen Mickey Mouse head massacre Mac cherry matte glossed lips smack please mind the thigh gap pierced venus fly trap french kiss french toast french roast light frap french-goodbye the nightcap Full Japanese sleeves Brazilian hair weaves and bazillionaire thieves heavenly heavily creased Canal Street queen 25 if a fiend maybe 40 if she’s clean shorty in black, Nightmare Before Christmas, ripped, safety-pinned jeans obscenely scene art crowd bean-to-bar-insert-fart-sound far out, daddy-o daddy issues data dumpster dumb on purpose optimistic prophylactic purchase swipe right, minimal hesitation possible digital penetration popsicle in the butthole? wait—where are you going? Wait. Wait. Please wait. Wait! My safeword is “safeword” say word if that’s hot word not! what? stop! how much you fuckin got? lay up off your cash, your pants, and throw the Her Pleasure trojans on the top! drop, kiss the pavement, spread your mothafucking cheeks and make em talk “wawawawawah” the familiar wa-wa-walk of shame glittering city of dreams Sex is on the breeze Must be springtime in the city

VERSE 1

Vocals bbbb 4 & b 4 ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b b œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & b b b 4 œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 3 œ œ œ œ Piano

? b 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ b bbb 4

Bbmin C7(b9) F 7 Bbmin C7(b9) F 7 Bbmin C7(b9) F 7 Bbmin C7(b9) F 7 Bbmin

Vox. b & b bbb ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b ˙ œ ˙ œ ˙ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ & b bbb ˙ œ nœ ˙ œ nœ ˙ œ nœ ˙ œ nœ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ ˙ nœ b œ ˙ nœ b œ ˙ nœ b œ ˙ nœ b œ œ œ 3 œ Pno. œ ˙. ˙ ? b b ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ ‰ œ Ó b b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙. ˙

GbMaj Bbmin ◊ Vox. b & b bbb ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ Ó Œ ≈œ œ œ How do you

œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bbbb œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ.œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & b œ œ œ œ œ 3 œ œ œ œ Pno. œ r œ œ œ œ ˙. ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙. œ œ. w œ.œ œ œ œ. ? b b œ ˙. ˙ Œ ‰ ≈ œ œ œ w œ. œ œ œ b b b œ ˙ œ ˙. œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ

Ebmin7 GbMaj7 F 7/A CHORUS

Vox. b nœ bœ œ nœ bbœœ œ œ b bb œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ ≈ œ œ œ œ œœ œœ œ ‰ j ¿ ‰ j ¿ ‰ j ≈ & b 3 b¿ ¿ ¿ . ¿ ¿ ¿ . ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ make pink le-mon-ade? How do you make pink le mon-ade? Is it real? Yeah!R Is it real? Yeah!R Good We on-ly want it if it's real Pink le-mons Pink le-mons bb b Ó n & b b ˙ w w w Pno. ˙ w w w nw ? b b Ó ˙ w w b b b ˙ w w nw

Verse 1 Verse 2 Air salad can’t bear a bear market with a bare body sex vinaigrette rich heir—hot air choking errbody intravenous internet they swore you’d soar, check your sore body jazz cigarettes see the sweat pour from each pore of your poor blazé frenzy body officer friendly Someone wise once wrote Venti Trapaccino “our world’s divided into two types of folk gluten free Henny Now there’s the type of people who divide the Crocodile skin in the Bentley world into different types of people graveyard shift at the Denny’s And then there’s the type who don’t” north side plenty, south side pennies my uniters, crack a beer on the couch I vote Yeezus/ Deez Nuts 2020 If we’re not eye to eye I’m hearing you out you want to run a country? that makes me shiver and my dividers, get your center-part ready bitch I wouldn’t trust you to run with adult scissors Cause I’ll divide your skull with a dull machete flushed ass face We don’t play flash that cash fetch or rollover your fleshlight wouldn’t let you smash no way— it’s cold shoulder collection plate passing through the church benches for Machiavellian, Martin Skhrelian suit and tie pastors pull up to their chapels in Benzes soldiers I guess that I musta missed class that day it’s so senseless, baby please pass that J Outro verse Chorus uh oh, uh oh How do you make pink lemonade? I lost my ticket to go to the gun show (Pink lemons!) I was gonna be front row How do you make pink lemonade? my mind it used to be sharper than CutCo (Pink lemons!) uh oh, uh oh Is it real? (Yeah!) somebody came at me cutthroat Is it real? (Yeah!) broke open my dome and grafitti’d inside on the Good! We only want it if it’s real stucco fuck no I’m gonna shine like DayGlo We gotta show em how the locals who come from the Bay go Beethoven lovers or Juggalos chugging a Faygo Welcome got a caseload of queso No filet mignon but plenty of steak and potato pay no attention to henchmen, okay bro? No way Jose Canseco If I’m a shark I’m not your Great White I’m maybe a Mako Makeover, without taking over some shit not a day go by DON'T BE NICE Music by Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

INTRO

Vocals b 4 & b b 4 œ ‰ Œ Ó ∑ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ J Don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice

b 4 & b b 4 œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ ‘ ‘ ‘ Piano ? 4 bbb 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

E maj7 Abmaj7 b A 4fr. 2 Vox. b & b b . œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ « ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice [RAP] 2 b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & b b . œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ « œw œ œw œ Pno. 2 w w ? œ œ œ œ w w bbb . ˙ œ Œ «

Abmaj7 E maj7 4fr. b

Vox. bb œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ & b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ Don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice

b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & b b œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œw œ œw œ Pno. w w ? œ œ œ œ w w bbb ˙ Ó ∑ ˙ œ Œ

A maj7 E maj7 G 7( 9) b b b 4fr. 9fr. B repeat section 2x with rap, then continue Vox. bb œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ . œ ‰ œ ‰ & b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ . œ œ œ œ ’ ’ ’ ’ Don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice don't be nice Don't be nice don't be nice

b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & b b œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ ‘ œw œ œ˙ nœ˙ . œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œw œ Pno. w ˙ ˙ w ? w ˙ ˙ w bbb ∑ ∑ . ∑

Chorus from total teddy bear to ultra rude Don’t be nice true, I don’t measure power by bravado, libi- Verse do my policy is to call em as I see em no filler or by popping bottles with Hefner in the grotto quality people lift me up like the coliseum pil- in speedos lars I’m never sharing my moscato if you suck like some go from pitching religion to sipping on mosquito kombucha So “open up” said the taco to the burrito, politicians switching positions like it’s the Kama motherfucker Sutra don’t be nice, don’t be nice Our narcissism has got us caught up like bars in drop all the fuckery, stop it you ugly ignora- prison mus claim we’re winning gargling seven dicks and a don’t be nice, don’t be—rude and brainless jar of jizzum don’t be—super basic your mommas a true beauty don’t—move if you’re contagious butt makes me weep, I call it a “boo-hooty” don’t be nice—la-la-la-la-la truly a hot mom don’t be nice—I’m not listening other moms are doing their squats wrong don’t be nice, don’t be nice and if you don’t dig it when I spit it like an open got nothing nice to say then—don’t be nice spigot and I’m doing my duty to drop bombs gather the wicked to sacrifice visit www.kisswatskysgluteusmaximus.com sucking the dick of the antichrist false modesty is a guilty habit kicking the bucket is vital to life I know that’s some people simply have it the price but the fact is I would not have spent a decade don’t be—candy striped doing this don’t be—parasites if I did not believe I was at least tiny bit ridicu- don’t—do me dirty lously filthy at it don’t—think you’re worthy Wrote a book to branch out don’t—hurt me After tour let’s have a singalong and camp out mercy is not a courtesy currently that occurs to cause I came here for a single reason me and that’s for friendship I turn up eternally, you will not stop it and for drinking til I can’t count—now True—my crew hotter than hot pockets If you’re Jesus then we break bread (This dude Watsky too cocky, let’s cock block If you’re Beavis then we butt heads it) if you’re a butthead, or a fake friend we do what we do because it’s true to us I smack ya back to Hollywood enough said while few puppets in suits up at the top profit skin scream jars and if you got a new coup then I do not knock thin teen stars it Wanna hear a laugher? But I bukkake your Bugati with snot rockets A white rapper walks into 16 bars I am large, I contain multitudes I’m in charge of a strange cult of dudes Infinity versions of me in parallel universes YES, BRITANNIA Music by George Watsky Lyrics by George Watsky

E B F#min C#min B 4fr. INTRO

Vocals # ## & # 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

# œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ## # 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & 4 J ‰ ‰ J œ œ œ œ ‰ œ ‰ ‰ Piano J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ ? # ## 4 œ ‰ Œ ‰ œ œ j ‰ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # 4 J œ œ

E B F#min C#min B 4fr. CHORUS

Vox. # # # # œ j Ó & Œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j I'm plea -ding guil - ty with the crown to - day That's all I got to say I will not lie to you œ

E B F#min C#min B 4fr.

Vox. # ## # Œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ≈ œ œ œ ‰ Œ Ó & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ I had to try my luck a - cross the sea Andœ now we're his - to - ry I'mœ say - ing good-bye to you

E B F#min C#min B 4fr. VERSE 4x Vox. # ## # . . & . ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

OUTRO

Vox. Round 1 #### & œ. œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Ó Oh Yes Brit-an - nia I sur - ren der Book me and toss the key

Vox. Round 2 # # & # # ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

Vox. Round 3 # # & # # ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

Vox. Round 4 # # & # # ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

Chorus Verse 2 I’m pleading guilty with the Crown today All we’re seekin’s a person that we can cherish That’s all I got to say I don’t think you really want a green card I will not lie to you marriage I had to try my luck across the sea Nothing is fair but you’re caring and can’t Now we’re history bear it I’m saying goodbye to you A lot of people perished tonight in Paris The planet is a mean is a motherfucker Verse 1 You wanna scream but we gotta lean on each Yes, I’ve been a mess other With the pressure the stress We suffer and pick ourselves up off of the see ya never, I guess floor nevertheless, finding you I was blessed Your dad at stage four, what could I say to Swear I’m trying my best support? Lion inside of my chest Can we just quit each other trying to claw his way out the way you did cigarettes? Crack my ribs, pop my lungs I don’t know if up and split, cold turkey, no regrets? there’s a safe route I’d even miss tasting the nicotine on your now—we can cut this frayed rope breath when we kiss or hope and wait us to fade I’m not ready to say good bye to you yet babe— after how great the ups were like sayonara we can’t be living with love when it’s lost it’s I don’t know if I can try tomorrow luster am I supposed to say a hallelujah frosted over, busted, exhausted, ruptured smile I knew ya another couple who settled for less And go on my way? We want something real Outro a relationship Oh, yes Brittania Wanna feel I surrender and quit chasing shit Book me and toss the key gimme a shield Oh, yes Brittania or she’ll break me quick I’ll remember your generosity And we will never be the same again Oh, yes Brittania Poison testers, princes and hooligans Chorus Oh, yes Brittania Loves a jester, and what a fool I’ve been LOVE LETTERS Music by Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

B min A/C# B min/D F#min7 G Maj7 B min VERSE

Vocals # # 4 . . & 4 [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 6x œ œ. # w œ œ œ œ w œ ˙ & # 4 . w œ œ œ w J . Piano w œ œ œ w w w œ œ œ w w ? ## 4 . .

CHORUS

Vox. # & # ‰ ‰ You've¿ made¿ ¿a place¿ where¿ I'm¿ wel¿ - come¿ And¿ al¿ - though¿ ¿I give¿ voice¿ to¿ ¿it sel¿ - dom¿ Know¿ ¿I # & # ∑ ∑ Pno. ? # # œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ

Vox. # & # ≈ Œ love¿ you¿ No¿ - bo¿ - dy's¿ ¿a - bove¿ you¿ And¿ ¿if you¿ love¿ some¿ - one¿ then¿ you¿ tell¿ them¿ # & # ∑ ∑ Pno.

? ## œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ

D Maj7 E m9 E M7 #11 /G# F Maj7 B Maj7 E m add9 /B HOOK 5fr. ( 6fr.) ( )

Vox. # & # . ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿‰ Œ ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿‰‰ ¿ ¿ GO IN PO-ET! Eigh¿ -ty¿ six¿ ¿I was¿ thrown¿ in¿ the¿ mix¿ say¿ -in'¿ GO IN PO-ET! Eigh¿ -ty¿ six¿ ann¿ -¿y-one¿ who¿ would¿ stand¿ in¿ the¿ way¿ of¿ ¿a kid¿ say¿ -in'¿ GO IN

œ # œœ œ œ œ ˙. œœ ww & # . ∑ œ œ ##œœ nnœ ##˙˙. œ w Pno. ? # . œ œ œ œ # . ˙ œ #œ nœ w w ˙ n œ w w

Verse 1 And though we like to worship a genius in a coffin The drum is never the enemy of the pen We often forget that there’s prophets among us walking but when I’m meeting mentally with beat and melody then And I know because I hear em when I am in the clouds One of me can turn into ten of me And I got my music up and jamming it loud If there’s ten of me, tell me how many heavenly similes can we And dammit whatever I am or could ever become I’m positive blend? that I will always be a fan in the crowd Like women and men would fall with no friends So gimme gimme gimme Like a rose would fall with no stem Dylan and Biggy Like most folks follow trends Hit me with Jimi Like Os follow LMNs Emily Dickinson, Eminem, Niki Giovanni Lennon, Kendrick, That’s how well I know life flows with the elements Gambino, Rafa, Chinaka, Dahlak and Missy, Saul and Beau As sunrise kills an evening and Paul and Kweli, Chali 2na and Chance and Seneca As stars die and a night sky is grieving As man sees what he has when it’s leaving Hook You gone is as asthma to breathing (Go in poet!) That’s how much I need you in my life 86 I was thrown in the mix, saying I’m never gonna ever leave you in my lifetime (Go in poet!) Cause every time I hear line that shows me I’m not alone it’s 86 anyone who would stand in the path of a kid saying saving me (Go in poet!) cause I know that that’s a lifeline 86 bitches, 86 cups full of lean Like minds—this is our home and they won’t ruin it easily (Go in poet!) Cause the wolf is gonna blow until he’s blue in the cheek 86 bars, infinity ways to say what I mean and me and you and the crew can go take a snooze in the street Chorus And the bulldozer can come chew on our feet Verse 3 We never let em through So if you’re blocking the future I wanna to walk toward We’ll build a levy Suit yourself we’re gonna lock swords limit the river’s level But it’s a wash if you’re saying “Watsky I could rock withcha if steady the flood and begin with a pebble you didn’t talk like some nails on a chalkboard lend me one syllable I can tell—that you’re really on your dope writer tip come if you’re ready to shovel But you’ll trip if you don’t try to fit run if you’re shaking Maybe you can make it if you ghostwrite a hit but I know that today is not my Waterloo And sell it to somebody who can ghostride a whip” Shieeet—I say no sirree I can smell the weak shit through the potpourri Chorus So I’m just gonna do what I do You’ve made a place where I’m welcome You take a minute or two and Google “Tim and Magoo” And although I give voice to it seldom I love the that life I picked even if it aint plush Know I love you I’m too glad complain much Nobody’s above you I’m in the lab in a drab world And if you love someone then you tell them While these fuckers dab and do dabs and I dab on my pad Verse 2 with my paintbrush Every day the planet’s losing IQ points This is for the kids whipping up some home-cooked But people still bumping Ice Cube joints Spitting 86 bars, fuckin no hook So I’ve got hope lying in the grass and every day I’m seeking my true voice passion their chest and looking up at a bright new choice and a ballpoint pressed in their notebook Cause everybody’s got a hustle and everyone’s trying to push it Listen to me, this is for the word It’s tricky to find the kush hiking up a mountain of bullshit looking so fine I’m rubbing coconut oil up in the crack of dat And there’s another mountain of bullshit next to it littered with spine glitter, money and strippers they’re selling as good shit this is for the times I’m reminded my mind isn’t mine alone It’s nothing new up at the core though This if for the poems and the lines Everything same as it’s always been only more so (And the letters in em) Of course so same token, while there’s life there is truth While there’s truth it demands to be spoken And someone’s gonna speak it it’s really not a secret You just need to search it you just need to seek it STICK TO YOUR GUNS Music by Kush Mody ft. Julia Nunes Lyrics by George Watsky

m7 5 min F B (b ) Bb A min D min F B m7(b5) Bb Bb F INTRO 3x Vocals & b 4 . ∑ ∑ . ∑ ∑

F B m7 b5 Bb A min D min F B m7 b5 Bb Bbmin F VERSE 1 ( ) ( )

4x Vox. b . . & . ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

F B m7 b5 B A min7 D min7 CHORUS ( ) b

Vox. œ & b ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ≈ Œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ You got your ﬁn - ger on the trig - ger kidœ You got your ﬁn - ger on the trig - ger kid C'œ - monœ

min m7 5 F B m7(b5) Bb Bb F F B (b )

Vox. & b ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Ó ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ≈ Œ Line it up line it up line it up and hit me with the truth You got your ﬁn - ger on the trig - ger kidœ

Eb D min G 7 C 7sus4 A 7/C# A 7 D min7

Vox. & b ≈ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Ó You got your ﬁn - ger on the trig - ger kid C'œ - monœ Line it up line it up line it up and hit me with the truth

F Maj7 B m7 5 B min D m11 G 7 B min6 VERSE 2 b b b ( ) 5fr.

Vox. b & ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

F Maj7 B m7 b5 Bbmin D m11 Bb Bbmin F ( ) 5fr.

Vox. & b ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

F B m7 b5 Eb D min G 7 C 7sus4 A 7/C# A 7 D min7 G 7 b5 G 7 ( ) ( )2fr.

Vox. & b ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

Verse 1 Verse 3 I’ll be gone when you read this so I just wanted to say we come together in this hour of need I’m sorry to the couple decent people who got in the way to the honor the innocent victims of this cowardly deed and maybe there was a point at which this all coulda of course I share your sentiment as your voice in the been different senate but this is the position we’re in and it’s pointless to wish but let’s accept nothing ever could have been done to that it isn’t prevent it they’ll all be gawking when I walk in the door it’s just the strange inner visions of a deranged individu- cocking my shotgun hammer and they drop to the floor al the clocks shatter, I scatter the jock horde full of rage, full of hate, full of vitriol splatter the chalkboard I gotta mention that it’s sick and insane it matters a lot more than half of you thought my opponent’s twisting your pain for political gain when you were knocking me like I’m a laughingstock and that’s lame a weakling a freak and a creep and I think it’s a damn shame I was mocked and ignored it doesn’t give anyone power to cast blame you’re sorry now but talk is cheap because the past is the past shoulda thought it before and it’s best that we keep things the same you’re the sorry flock of sheep who made me rot to core So, my Chads and my Staceys, go back to the mall and of course you’ll make a break to escape through the Fill your bags out at Macy’s, and chat in the hall corridor And I hope I’m that vote that you cast in the fall don’t be late, I set you up on a date with the coroner cause I care for you, it’s true and our fates are sealed Bridge (x 4) all of you fakes, don’t worry Stick to your guns this will all be over soon Chorus You got your finger on the trigger, kid You got your finger on the trigger, kid Come on Line it up, line it up, line it up And hit me with the truth

Verse 2 thanks for tuning in to the top rated crew in the news! feels great to us that we’re the one that viewers would choose I’m hearing through my producer we’ve got the scoop on the name and the favorite food of the shooter plus an interview with a student who’s been fed through a tube she was shot in the head we’re gonna bring you a segment live from her hospital bed we’ll try to bring you the spin through your preexisting opinions but if we miss it switch it to our sister network instead of course we know this situation is tragic but take a minute to appreciate our fabulous graphics and we’ll be back in action with up to the second reports (after a couple of words from all our loyal sponsors, of course) so like us, and vine us, and tweet to connect 24/7 we’re giving ya what you’re craving we live to deliver live the kinda coverage that you’ve come to expect we’re always here for you BRAVE NEW WORLD Music by Kush Mody ft. Chaos Chaos Lyrics by George Watsky

G min BbMaj7 D min 3fr. INTRO 4x Vocals b b 4 . ∑ ∑ œ œ œ œ Ó ∑ . & 4 Venœ - œe - œfi - cia!œ Ven - e - fi - cia! Sev - en - trum - pets! Ven - e - fi - cia! bb 4 . . & 4 . w w w w . Piano w w w w

? bb 4 . w . w w w VERSE G min Bb D min G min 3fr. 3fr. % Vox. bb . & . [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b œ œ œ œ œ & b . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Pno. œ œ œ œ œ ? œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bb . œ œ

G min B B F Maj6 C b b 3fr.

Vox. b & b ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

b œ œ œ œ œ & b œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Pno. œ œ œ œ ? œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bb œ œ œ œ

D min7 F G min Bb F Maj6 C 3fr. 1st verse: 2x 2nd verse: to Coda Vox. b & b ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

b œ œ œ œ œ œ . & b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ . Pno. œ œ œ œ œ œ ? œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ bb œ .

Intro Verse 2 Veneficia! Veneficia! Seven trumpets! Veneficia! Young George Jetson stepping up in this motherfucker Verse 1 gripping a butcher knife hoping I can cut the chord Easy, with a ballot, we can put a reality TV person- Where the horde is plugged to the motherboard ality in DC That is not a legitimate hoverboard (shit’s got wheels!) Speak free if you can see how this delicate fucking I Iook at the sky saying “my god run!” matter developed but man it beats me Life’s heavier than an ipod one (Oh my goooooood!) My twitter ain’t gonna matter when the tripods come two fleets keep peace on the mean streets (Let’s get real!) one treats brown people like they’re beastly From the hieroglyphs to the crowded malls nothing like the force that police me Never mind if, but the how it falls (that’s so odd!) I’m vibing out watching Ow! My Balls what’s the fate of the species? (Oh yeaaaaa) get a metal plate and then mate with the PCs core defects tend to wreck my sleep or retreat back to a monkey chucking feces? the quest to be more perfect than Ford Prefect while I’m dreaming of Electric Sheep (What’s the deal?) Cause Soylent Green is people wanna ease this pain resistance is just futile different than the BC years Pop a red pill and a blue pill and I dilate my pupils now we Bcc Jesus on the email chain Moving light speed Way too many threats to flee we all got vile needs way too many heads to feed living is a violent deed Not too many beds to sleep spread my soul like Wild Seed chief said that it was best you leave Why would it be any wonder I act weird? F-U please to the refugees I’m trying to find out who the fuck I am while looking in And it’s seeming like it’s every other day that I been a cracked Black Mirror You got a finish that you thought about? tugging at my collar thinking “damn it’s toasty” How this is gotta bottom out? where did all the people at the supermarket go that You wanna flee the reaper but they’re bombing the city used to scan my groceries? and the single haven to creep in is the slaughterhouse Vanished mostly And wassup with all the homies in the camo and the ammo with the rifles on their shoulder walking through the city thinking that they’re Annie Oakley? That’s quite enough but this shit is fucking unbelievable I swear you couldn’t write this this stuff

Chorus Everywhere that I stare (Veneficia!) You couldn’t write this shit, no Every minute, deeper in it (Veneficia!) Another fantasy is brought to life Everywhere that I stare (Science Fiction!) You couldn’t write this shit, no Every minute, deeper in it (Veneficia!) And now I never get surprised GOING DOWN Music by Miles Douglas Lyrics by George Watsky

B min7 C#min7 4fr. CHORUS

Vocals ### 4 j j j j j j & 4 Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ. Ó Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ. Ó I'mœ go - ing down I'mœ go - ing down

F#min

Vox. # ## Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ Ó Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ. Ó Œ ‰ j j & œ J J J œ. œ J J J j œ œ œ I'm go - ing down I'm go - ing down I'mœ go - ing down

B min7 C#min7 4fr.

to verse Vox. ### j j j j & œ œ. Ó Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ j ‰ Œ Ó Œ œ I'mœ go - ing down œ œ ONœ YOU!

F min B min7 C min7 VERSE # # 4fr. 3x Vox. ### . . & . [RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

F#min

Vox. # # & # ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

B min7 C min7 REFRAIN # 4fr. to verse Vox. # ## Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ Ó Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ. Œ . j & œ J J J œ. œ J J J œ . œ I'm go - ing down I'm go - ing down ON YOU!

Chorus Verse 3 I’m going down, I’m going down, I’m going down given our planet’s gender ratio On you it’d be a mockery glossing over fellatio (there he go) meaning that really fucking quick Verse 1 I gotta touch on sucking dick I’m breathing deep then I leap in many guys visualize giving BJs And say “eww” I’m going under But can we just please give smoking pole a calm objec- like eating that V’s the key to how we can beat global tive view? hunger I’m pretty straight, but I’ll state: sexuality’s an arc achieve total peace on earth maybe I can suck a flashlight so my soul will not be dark I’m a freak, I’m a local wonder Why couldn’t I get sexual with a man at all? more lung capacity than Freddy Mercury vocal numbers At thirteen I was in my bedroom fucking stuffed animals I plunder the briny deep if I can bang an inanimate object can’t I jam the crotch a spelunker plunging in, hunkering down in between of a man in my jaw and softly massage it? those puffy pink walls like a fallout bunker fellas vomit like “what if the sausage is smelling hella and if never emerge to the surface don’t gimme shit funky?” in twenty years I’m back like Kimmy Shmidt (wassup) Don’t you wash your fucking junk, B? Hold up, wait (Hold up, wait) of course I wouldn’t devour icky salami Cause I really gotta set one thing straight but that goes the same for encountering stinky punani I’m not chowing on the chocha so that you’ll reciprocate so in this scenario where I brush my teeth with a penis I just go in (go in) let’s assume that the penis we’re dealing with sparkles no strings (no strings) the cleanest of all tastes great (tastes great) penis penis on the wall fun times (vitamins!) with those well proportioned balls I got a wand tongue I’m doing sorcery Verse 4 If you don’t want none So let’s say you’re okay with your lips around a cock well that’s just more for me but you still can’t wrap your mind around the final mon- eyshot Verse 2 don’t give up! if the nut is what truly makes it foul I’m going down on you like I like it but bruh I’m lyin’ then just get him close to busting and hand him a paper Cause I don’t like it I luh that shit’s my valentine towel one tiny warning—I’m dining on your gourmet form until yup! no gravy on your chin! the morning yup! everybody wins! performing like it’ll stop global warming yup! squirrel to an acorn my pallet has got no equal dudes like to look at dicks in their straight porn talent could vanquish evil Put your hands up if you got hangups and maybe make Rick Moranis be in the Ghostbusters Put your hands up if you got hangups sequel if I could get with it I’d have a wider ocean I’m fishing in one taste and I’m wailing “god bless!” (god bless!) But I’m inhibited by my social conditioning Until you quiver I will not rest (not rest) so where my head’s at present the odds are gloomy licking repeatedly like your beaver’s a square reader That I would agree to feast on a D that’s presented to and my tongue is a VISA debit card that failed to process me it’s like the Miracle Worker and I’m blind and I’m deaf But I’m not officially ruling out and dumb that at some point in my life I’ll have a dingaling in my plus each inch my body’s numb except for the tip of my mouth tongue and each Wikipedia topic’s printed in microscopic raised ink on your clit so the single option I got to know something about this wonderful globe that we come from’s to locate your swol- len bean and then probe the folds of it fiendishly til you cum about infinity times And baby that isn’t a crime MIDNIGHT HEART Music by Brandon Paak Anderson ft. Mal Devisa & Michael Jones Lyrics by George Watsky C B min A m

INTRO œ œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # 4 œ ˙ ˙ œ & 4 Piano # 4 & 4 Œ. w w w w w w w œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙. œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ Guitar # 4 & 4

10 12 10 10 10 8 10 Guitar T 12 12 12 12 10 12 A B

C B min A m

embellish melody Vox. # œ œ & ∑ ∑ ∑ Ó ‰ œ Well I've made ˙ œ œ œ œ w œ. œ œ. ˙ œ # œ J & J J Œ. Pno. # & w w w w w w

˙ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ Gtr. # œ œ œ w w &

12 10 10 Gtr. 12 12 12 11 9

CHORUS

C B min A m

Vox. # ˙ œ œ œ & ‰ œ œ ˙ Œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ Ó ‰ œ en - e - mies a - long the ride I'm a - fraid

C B min E min C

Vox. # ˙ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ. œ Œ Œ ‰ j œ œ. Ó ‰ œ œ œ ˙ ‰ œ œ œ & J œ J I could ne - ver be Sat - is - ﬁed But each way that I turn

Chorus Verse 2 Well I’ve made enemies along the ride it’s tough to care about stupid bullshit all of the I’m afraid I could never be satisfied time But each way that I turn I face ahead so I gotta say I’m glad that’s your job and not Hook mine Straight through to your midnight heart Everybody’s got a topic at the top of their Straight through to your midnight heart mind Now you know your soul is dark A choice of how you wanna let your life be Straight through to your midnight heart defined (is it honeys?) Verse 1 sleeping around is your taste? you don’t know the name of like half of these (Is it money?) folks are you the paper you chase? and they’ll be sprinting for the exit the minute (Kinda funny) you’re broke You said that I’ve been playing safe a bunch of bobblehead muppets to laugh at if you got the bravest voice say that to my face your jokes (is it your career?) wipe your ass and come and give your ego a pretty shitty to hear but I took a difficult look in stroke the mirror I had to break it to you and I checked in the rearview sorry buddy it was time you knew objects are never what they appear nothing you ever said was funny man, the the past tends to look crooked from here: punchline’s you the mask that I put on out of fear one time, for the palm trees and the sunshine the tracks that I didn’t put out two times, for the two-timers being unkind the facts that I kept out of my ear confined to a small mind, but the fault’s mine the slack that I cut people who didn’t deserve I always keep on crawling back across the San it is tragically clear Andreas faultline no no no not this year I keep on climbing underground to sweat out I’m not done changing yet all my principles in darkness with you in this salt I’ll get these old knees checked mine I can’t bend over for someone I don’t respect where we’re all blind I should fall back I know all signs say that I should halt but I golf clap for this false crap but from now on counterfeit suckers suck on my ball-sack alright? I know you know it’s way too late now and your soul is dark Yeah motherfucker I see through you to your midnight heart LOVELY THINGS SUITE: CONVERSATIONS Music by Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

B min7 D Maj7 F#m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 INTRO 9fr.

Vocals # # & # 4 . ∑ ∑ .

# # 4 & # 4 . Œ œ œ œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ Piano œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ? # # œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. # 4 . œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ œ œ œ œ . œ. œ œ œ œ œ

B min7 D Maj7 F m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 VERSE 1 # 9fr.

6x Vox. # # # . . & ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

B min7 D Maj7 F#m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 9fr. 4x

Vox. # # 4x & # . ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

B min7 D Maj7 F#m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 B min7 D Maj7 F#m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 9fr. 9fr.

Vox. ### r & ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ That is - n't for a

min7 Maj7 m11 A Maj7 Maj7 CHORUS B D F# D 9fr.

Vox. # # # œ ‰ ≈ r œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ ‰ ≈ r œ œ œ œ & œ œ . œ œ long long time œ That is - n't for a long long time That is - n't for a

B min7 D Maj7 F#m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 9fr.

Vox. # # # œ ‰ ≈ r œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ ‰ ‰ & œ œ . œ œ long long time œ That is - n't for a long long long long

B min7 D Maj7 F m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 B min7 D Maj7 F m11 A Maj7 D Maj7 VERSE 2 # # 9fr. 9fr.

Vox. # # j & # œ ‰ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ time

Verse 1 Verse 2 I remember vividly Life moves fast my tears dropping on the grey carpet on the top Made the mistake of blinking, twenty years passed step Now I’m sitting in my living room in Brooklyn with father pops giving me his best guess We don’t bother doing Christmas in the Bay any longer It’s first time that we’ve had this conversation me confessing the burning question stressing and He says “it’s tough to take in concerning me and turning me to a wet mess I know we’re not quite ancient it’s probably nothing But we’ve reached age where we should probably talk I get it, I’m aware arrangements I know it’s probably stupid to be scared We could take it several routes But these days are flying past us and nobody seems We could sell the house to care We can’t work forever, eventually money will run out It’s like we’re sprinting towards a brick wall we’re That’s a spot taking a loan would help us cover pretending isn’t there Which would make it tougher to leave something for What happens when we hit it? you and your brother” Stop—can’t you see? Do we split into a million bits Every meal that you paid for me Or do we come back as a bullfrog and talk in rib- all this power to chase a dream bits? All this privilege not to crave riches What is it? What is it? What is it? but it’s plain to me the key fact is it’s easy to act like You got the answer so give it, so give it, so give it cash means jack shit if you never lacked it Don’t lie, what happens when we die? and the greatest honor I could have is to make a Dad says, Georgie I’m just guessing from what I’ve buck and pass back a fraction of all the happiness you been told gave to me Probably thinking, “How’d I raise this emo fucking And I will never make you live where you don’t aim to nine-year-old?” be Age is just data Since I’m sorta really not religious it’s a crapshoot we paint our story A to Z then dip out I roll a pair of dice R.I.P. rip out, we tear out the pages Although the thought of paradise is very nice Tear up the stage and we take a seat In my heart I know I don’t believe in magic making a vacancy So I’m thinking maybe death is like eternal TV static Famous or not, we fade from the plot or returning to the state before your birth Every day when a new night falls absorbed into the earth I ride around the sun on this big blue ball the fewer hours left the more they’re worth I get a bit further from the kid called Paul I admit that it’s difficult to think about and I get a bit closer to the big brick wall I think everybody got a little bit of doubt But since inching up to that fence I can run my fingers against all the bricks and mortar You don’t get to hide from it even if you shout and sense Not a soul on the planet gets to wiggle out that it’s not so cold and so dense And he said that I know that’s it’s tough to take in And although I’m mournful I’ve known that I’m not son but it’s so early immortal I can see you’re in a hurry but don’t worry cause I’m not banging into stone but I’m more heading through this portal Chorse We’re born to return to home we’re all born to be That isn’t for a long, long time mincemeat That isn’t for a long, long time everything dies except for Papaya King hotdogs on That isn’t for a long, long time 86th St. Dad hands me a napkin tells me it’s been the same since That isn’t for a long, long, long, long time the fifties He didn’t always love the city but dammit he’ll miss me How can you miss something after you leave, I agree that it’s sad but please Don’t dwell on it Dad, because— LOVELY THINGS SUITE: KNOTS Music by Kush Mody & Ryan Whyman Lyrics by George Watsky

INTRO

Vocals # & 4 ∑ ∑ ∑

# 4 œ & 4 œ œ œ. œ œ. œ œ. #œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Piano œ #œ œ #œ œ. œ #œ œ œ œ #œ œ œ #œ ? # 4 ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 4 ˙ #œ œ #œ ˙ œ #œ œ

rit. Slow Vox. # & ∑ ∑ 42 ∑ 4

# ? œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ œ 2 ˙ & 4 & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ #œ 4 4 Pno. œ œ œ ? # œ œ 2 4 Ó ˙ œ œ 4 ˙ 4 œ œ ˙

Vox. # 4 & 4 [SPOKEN’ ’ WORD]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

# 4 œ. œ œ & 4 œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ . œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ. œ œ #œ. œ œ œ œ. œ œ. œ #œ. œ ˙ œ œ. œ . œ œ #œ. ˙ œ Pno. œ œ œ. œ œ œ ˙ œ œ. œ œ #œ. ˙ ? # 4 œ œ œ œ #œ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ 4 #œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ ˙ œ œ ˙

Vox. # 2 4 & ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ 4 ’ ’ 4

# ~ œ œ œ ~ œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ ##œ œ. œ #œ œ œ. œ œ œ 2 4 & œ œ. œ œ. œ #œ. œ ˙ œ #œ. œ œ œ œ. œ œ œ œ. nœ œ. 4 œ #œ. œ 4 Pno. œ œ œ œ. ˙ œ œ œ. ˙ ? # œ #œ ˙ ˙ œ #œ ˙ œ #œ œ œ n˙ 2 4 #œ ˙ œ #œ ˙ œ #œ ˙ œ ˙ 4 œ 4 œ œ ˙ œ œ œ

What a tangle and to clench the iron first inside the velvet glove What a strangling knot to be caught in to learn to whisper and to scream To be exiled here (the whisper justifies the scream) To be stuck in Berlin with Vienna so near to let each yearning finger breathe Yet so far from the Emperor’s ear (no, nothing lives unless it breathes) What a strange and impossible sum to burn, to worship, to mislead to be old while to still be so young to pose a question with a pinky on a key to have sung before speaking a word to flee, to fight, to bleed to be heard to float in air to be hailed nothing solid underneath then to fail to rap those heavy knuckles on the gate to heaven to be done til there’s nothing to achieve, but— to love but to be so naive to trust and to be so deceived To go retrieve the length of cable hidden in the cabinet to mourn, forlorn, to be torn from you to metamorphasize the twisted rope unto an alphabet scorned for another who suffers no grief to lay the lazy C upon the shabby wooden floor to rest to send the end across the top and bend the C into an S to curse God, seeking lightning to curve the tail beneath the S to turn the tangle to a B and to still be ignored to hug the wretched root around the fibers suffocatingly to hide in this room, now too rich to afford to wrap again to wrap again to give the coil seven to hear armies of creditors bang at the door loops always yelling for more to penetrate the yawning hoop and to have nothing to sell that could help to tug the loose appendage through except for the Steinway that sits in the corner to yank the knot until it’s ready for the job it’s got to do to toss the braid above the ceiling beam and to affix the For Arthur it all came too easily noose to learn the scales in every key to bid adieu to all of you until there’s nothing left to do but to play the etudes and the suites climb the chair the nocturnes and The Fantaisie to cinch the collar to master the sonatas, minuets, and symphonies find the edge to seek the truth fits and starts to step into the air to strike the middle F like it’s an arrow through the heart to wing the right hand like a dove (the peaceful flutter of a dove) and with left a violent shove (some moments will demand a shove) to needle gently yet relentless with a steady foot upon the pedal LOVELY THINGS SUITE: ROSES Music by Miles Douglas Lyrics by George Watsky

INTRO 5x # # 4 œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œœœ & # # 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ . ‰ œ ‰ ‰ ‰ œ ‰ J ‰ ≈. Piano œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ? ## # 4 ‘ ‘ ‘ . .

Vox. # ## & # ∑ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Don't let my ghost drag you down # ## œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ & # ‰ œ ‰ ‰ ‰ œ ‰ J ‰ ≈ Pno. œ œ œ œ œ œ w ? #### œ œ

C#min A E 4fr. CHORUS

Vox. #### . j j j & . œ œ. Ó ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. Ó ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ‰ œ œ. œ œ œ Ifœ you don't see me a - round œIt does - n't mean that I fell Yeah I'm do-ing well

B C#min 4fr.

Vox. #### œ j œ j & ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. Ó ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ I got some ro - ses to smell I hope you smile when I'm gone œIt means I had the strength to move on

A E B

Vox. # # # # j Œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j & œ œ. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. ’[RAP]’ ’ ’ ’ ’ To ﬁnd a - no-ther sto - ry to tell To an-swer the bell I got some ro - ses to smell

C#min A E B 4fr. VERSE

Vox. # ## & # ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’

C#min A E B 4fr. to Chorus Vox. #### & ’’’’ ’’’’ ’’’’ ’’’’ ’’’’ ’’’’ ’’’’ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . Don't let my ghost drag you down

Chorus Verse 2 Don’t let my ghost drag you down cause every screen the we tap is screaming If you don’t see me around that bigger is better It doesn’t mean that I fell better is how you make yourself matter yeah I’m doing well but matter is fleeting I got some roses to smell am I living to feed a machine that I’m blind to I hope you smile when I’m gone see? It means I had the strength to move on no point in hiding my pride if there’s no priva- To find another story to tell cy to answer the bell I’ve already dedicated too much of my time to I got some roses to smell trying to get my followers up and crying out for attention Verse 1 and sleeping around to mend a hollow crater when magic’s happening my habit’s been coil- inside of me ing up a memory and trappin it right knowing well that it don’t mean shit in the cavity of my ribs, like the doors of a cab- going to the well for another cheap dopamine inet might hit but you won’t hold onto a shadow just by grab- I’m done being a bitch to ambition bing it tight I’m already rich set it free and let it back in the light I got a head that’s full of million dollar ques- never out of my heart, even when out of my tions sight and the length of it leaving is sposed to be hard is I don’t need the courage to work Man I thought it so was selfish of people I love I want the strength to quit to keep falling out of my life But now I know No I don’t take it personal If you got a really lovely place to go I will chase my goals yeah, to make me whole Cause it’s urgent we love and be loved I’ve begun to scrub up with detergent to shine up my soul LOVELY THINGS SUITE: THEORIES Music by Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky

F m7 Bb7 F m7 Bb7

Vocals b b & b b 4 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑

b b 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ & b b 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Piano nœ œ œ nœ w w ? b b 4 w w b b 4 w w w w

DbMaj7 Bb7 DbMaj Bb7 4fr.

Vox. b & b bb ∑ ∑ ∑ Ó Œ ‰ œ œ Ar-thur b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ & b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Pno. nœ œ œ nœ ? w w w w bbbb w w w w

F m7 Bb7

Vox. b b & b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ‰ œ œ stepped off yeah he stepped off of the chair could - nn't weighnœa hunœ -dredœ forœ - tyœ poundsœ And the

F m7 Bb7

Vox. bbbb œ ‰ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ œ rope snapped yeah the rope snapped And then AR - thur found him - self look - ing upœ fromœ theœ groundœ Look-ing up lookœ - ingœ

DbMaj7 Bb7 4fr.

Vox. bbbb & œ œ œ œ œ œ nœ œ œ upœ found things lookœ - ingœ upœ look - ing up lookœ - ingœ not so downœ noœ not so œdownœ noœ. DbMaj Bb7 F m7

Vox. b b bb Ó Œ ‰ œ œ œ & œ œ œ œ œ. œ nœ œ œ œ œ œ Knots don'tœ haveœ to stay thatœ wayœ œ no Not so tightœ - lyœ woundœ What a love - ly thing it is Bb7 F m7 Bb7

Vox. b b & b b œ œ œ Ó Œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ to fail To re - lease those grasp - ing ﬁngœ -œ er nails

Arthur stepped off, yeah he stepped offa the Back in 97 when Dad was my chauffeur chair He’d play radio and I’d try to guess the com- Couldn’t weigh a hundred forty pounds poser and the rope snapped yeah the rope snapped Chopin sprinkled over the hum of the motor and then Arthur found himself looking up from when I was young never I’d doubt my compo- the ground sure looking up, looking up, found things looking up everything’s kosher, man I was so sure looking up, looking not so down, no not so I’d say that I’m good down Don’t want no adulthood no knots don’t have to stay that way I never understood no, not so tightly wound couldn’t get how anyone would ever want to end to their life Chorus until the day that I could What a lovely thing it is to fail I’ve heard it said we’re alone in the ether to release those grasping fingernails That we’re the only intelligent creatures Arthur thought the end was near So you don’t need to adjust your receivers Then Arthur played for fifty years If they were out there they’d be texting us, And then my father walked down 8th and 57th hitting our beepers street to Invading us on some alien Julius Caesar Carnegie Hall, yeah it was Carnegie Hill Or begging “take me to your leader” the show was past sold out for weeks But I got a theory it’s neither But they said “if you don’t mind, if you don’t That there’s a billion brilliant alien planets at mind sitting on stage leisure Sometimes we release a couple seats” smoking alien reefer twenty feet, twenty feet, yeah my dad’s twenty the evolution of the mind’s not the hunger to three conquer tweet feet from the hands on the keys or to want or to seek or to wander yeah, the hands on the keys of a man with the Or even wonder, but to simply to be hands that almost didn’t exist until we cease to be any longer that almost didn’t exist to see There’s nothing wrong with heavy eyelids I hope you enjoyed my twenties as much as I did You’ll never know how much that all of you provided And I’m gonna try to do the same for EXQUISITE CORPSE Music by Kush Mody Lyrics by George Watsky, Rafael Casal, Daveed Diggs, Chinaka Hodge, Michael Jones, Benjamin Laub, Jonathan Park, & Adam Traore

G min Eb7 #11 G min Eb7 #11 3fr. ( 5fr.) 3fr. ( 5fr.)

Vocals b 4 . . & b 4 . ’[RAP] ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ .

b œ œ œ œ & b 4 . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . Piano œ #œ œ #œ w w ? 4 w #ww w #ww bb 4 . w w .

Intro Grieves Verse Have you ever seen a corpse? Ooowee, ain’t that a bitch? How about an exquisite one? Nobody believed it til the first wave hit Think about Frankenstein’s monster The ground started shaking and the sky went red Now think about fun (Mayday! Atlanta’s been lost, Justin Bieber is dead) You’re getting it, good! No! God damn, another one down Johnny starts with a leg. I sew on an arm. Then you lend colonies of people living under the ground a hand Rallied against the clowns, a resistance was born We each add our piece They fight for mankind and the existence of porn (let’s Now, what kind of beast have we made? go!) Let’s find out! Back on the surface life teeters Watsky Verse Avoiding wild packs of North American beavers I woke up Sunday to a bloodshot sky Creepers and face feeders robot overlords goosestep by fearing the great reaper shoulda listened when we had the juice to try You’re either gonna get eaten or beat with a pay meter And Bill the Science Guy told us that “the end is Nye!” This is real shit homie, dog eat dog Lately it’s been getting harder to survive More like robot clown eats man and whole squad since the hive started to Graffiti on the wall says “there is no god” Ban American refugees from being a damn part of But there is still homemade vodka, and that’s cool the People’s Republic of Antarctica Wax Verse A bum begged me for a bill he could borrow Homemade vodka, pour a shot up then I swill it babbling some shit about “there’s still a tomorrow” I’m the only person left who remembers how to distill it He said that “legend has it, there’s still a Baja Grill and a It’s the most popular product in the underground econ- Sbarro at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro” omy And so desperate, I set off from the deserts out in Port- So I’m the most popular person in my underground land colony until my thirsty horse collapsed in the scorched sand All the resistance leaders they throw shots down I promised to myself heart and soul In my bar after they fight the robot clowns I’d crawl across this dead world for those garlic rolls As of late they’ve been stressed and depressed Dumbfoundead Verse Cause the chances of us winning are becoming less and Yo, kid, let go of the dead horse less Stop crying, need a ride? Hop in my red Porsche We lost the captain of the human army Eat something homie, you look bony and frail Morale is really low and a lot of people are starving Now why the hell would you take the Oregon Trail? I’m still wondering how this all happened Remember back in grade school, that stupid computer Is this even real or am I just on acid? game? The clowns are advancing down You shoulda known better, now there’s no one but you to I use the word “down” cause they’re coming under- blame ground Dying of dysentery Wait—what’s that sound? It’s kinda loud don’t climb to the enemy Holy shit! There they are right now! I’ma take you underground where the hive resistance be Apparently a colony of people are out there A garden full of veggies, even garlic they sprout there Leader General Bieber who be running shit down there Found a way to end the drought, bring out the swimwear Soon as we pulled up we heard drilling noises Children started dancing, even grown folk joined in Like a hydrant in the Bronx, water shot up in the air But was boiling and as hot as solar flares EXQUISITE CORPSE

Adam Vida Verse Daveed Diggs Verse Calm down soldier, this is no time to be a fink Whoa whoa whoa, hold up cash We can beat these clowns, okay, we just need to think You see I’m trimming my mustache up I’ve lost ten men this week, I can’t sleep a wink I heard all these newly brainwashed rap chicks are But this the last place on earth a guy can get a decent really down to fuck drink I comb the pistols out the fro and they’re sitting on the So darned if we lose this bar to those useless zombie table bastards And there’s two cheesesteaks out in a fully gassed up I’d rather starve than be boozeless LeSabre So I put barbed wire slabs on the fences I’m ready to ride on these haters, let’s go That should buy us some time to plan our defenses But you better drive cause you already know Pick up the chairs and trash cans off the floor That apocalypse or not when I’m behind the wheel my Stack em up on the front door to jam up the entrance black ass is sure enough gonna get stopped Ain’t got grenades but we still might be saved And we ain’t got the time and the tags are expired I just found fifty diet coke cans and some breath mints You know how it is, I am really not trying to die today, Fill the trash cans to the brim with the cola by cop or by a geek robot When the robots break in, toss the mints in the soda Whoa, stop, lemme bottle up this kombucha I’ve been See the blast won’t hurt em but it’ll get em wet certainly brewing on the back porch It’ll mess up their wiring and disrupt their circuitry Grab the backpack out the closet, it’s got all of our If it don’t work though, my next plan cannot fail passports We drink the vodka—shot after shot til we’re too drunk to I’ve been planning this for a minute, seen the writing on feel pain the walls Spark up a flame and turn the bottles that remain into If we survive and find a civilization they’ve got to know Molotov cocktails who we are I’ve had it with you clowns, I’ve reached my limit First we swoop us Chinaka in case we need some muscle You may have killed my captain, but I’m the lieutenant Or some reason, or anything other than our indiscrimi- And I won’t let you terrorize us nate hustle wait just a minute Then we roll through the hood real slow bumping some- That ain’t no robot zombie, man, what the hell is it?! thing all of these monsters know Rafael Casal Verse Like a Watsky song? Lo and behold, they’ll follow our Adam! Ahhh! car wherever we go I didnt mean to scare ya Let’s lead em out to Napa and let em gentrify that bitch Dude, that’s not a robot, it’s just Iggy Azalea up Musta hid up in the bar to learn about who we are Start the car—no, homie—we are not stopping for any Then report back to the captain of the folks attackin my swishers favorite rap stars Or a McFlurry, blood there’s no time for that shit Oh shit, quick! Hit her with some fuckin duck-tape Hold up, there go Nak right there, pull over. Ayo Nak, She came to sing-rap & give us all some undercut fades Ayo Nak, get in the car! Lo fi beats transmittin telepathic autotune Help! she’s inside my head and I don’t think I am immune been repo-d, I think I’m in deep I am weeping at the seems forfeiting my dreams of keepin the streets G code Only way to outrun it is doublin up on the track Any and everyone get up and meddle I mean it just puttin the peddle into it Now we taking over the tempo and tunin it Never gone let a lesser lemon ruin it, so I’m inducing it Doomin em all, I’m undoin it, deuces im dippin, who comin with the kid? I’m out headed to the dojo, Diggs got pistols hidden in his fro though These robots think were bitch, Diggs, gimme some loko And let me borrow your Jefferson robe bro, I’m goin postal Bay boys bout to put this barrel into some fuckin blow- holes EXQUISITE CORPSE

Chinaka Hodge Verse George Verse Ay Raf get back seat Red red wine, I don’t want to die! make room for ya fam, friend I hum under my breath as I fight death in the quiet I’ll give you this McShake and the end of my Hansen depths of the bunker Now what the fuck you talking it’s the end of the world? I was confounded when I came to after Dumbfoundead I been on Pinterest tending to the end of my curls brought me to the battered base underground where we I mean the sky is always purple, people running on hunkered down the summer vapors But then winter came and the flame that we tended to I mean the Tribune been gone, I ain’t gon read it in the flickered to nothing papers and the few of us living resorted to burning cadavers Nothing’s all that different, been the same for black like tinder and lumber women We bickered bitterly and our wickedness hit a peak in When apocalyptic breakfast follows revelation dinners our hunger The lights been out sickened we hunted each other The water smelling of flint pickpocketed the weak and we plundered Exquisite corpses laying where the bodies had been a visitor from the surface stole a garlic roll from Dave No bombs over Baghdad, just drones with grenades and Busters When life gives us citrus we learn to drop Lemonade and I butchered the buster in his sleep just to lick his So okay fellas shall we get in formation? fingers for butter Bump some pied piper R up out the trunk this scraper But it kind of gave me indigestion I confess and the Do the end of the world styling in our fitteds and gators pipes ruptured from my dung Lure these stupid mufuckas on a goose chase lungs punctured when Dumb stuck me with the sharped Use whatever’s already up in my suitcase end of my plunger I got a whole jones for this open road Now it’s me and Grieves in a shallow grave And my flow so cold we don’t need AC next to J Biebs and Azalea’s pale humungous butt I popped fo’ no doze, I’ll read this formal prose that I rest my head upon for my perpetual slumber Bet you Butler knows how to make us free We frail and wretched kvetch and wail A Lauren Olamina in Trumped up world it’s curtains, my days are numbered A black magic woman still being called girl and I’m numb to pain, yet one remaining certainty gives But the only constant is change holmes me comfort So let’s get the supplies and leave up out our bay homes I made a living yelling my opinions loudly Got the earthquake kit and six gallons of gas Thinking I might matter if I drew a crowd, see Got Diggs in the driver and Raf in the back Now, my lily cheek on Iggy’s chilly cheeks I finally see Got this passenger seat and the last of these sweets the future will be fine without me Go north Daveed, just gun it til wine country Nothing is entitled to be mine Do it moving fluid like turfin with iDummy I’m a token of a broken time It’s the bay moves we learned as natives gon keep us And maybe there’s survivors on the surface in LeSabres safe working on tomorrow sipping red, red wine. It’s the forty water water and an instrumental tap, let’s go They’ll get tired behind us I mean half of em hybrid but most of them wind-ups We got nothing but power we got nothing but time I got Kwudi’s new beats and Music of My Mind Nothing left in Napa but the scent of the grapes No palate-cleansing tapas for discriminate taste Nothing left in Calistoga but one popped bubble We got just two dudes and just one Nak, trouble Like how the hell we repopulate humanity The two of y’all and me that’s actual insanity Gross. Like Really gross guys.