Lyrics No Favors - Big Sean, Eminem

No Favors

Make it, make it, make it, boy, we gotta make it
You can save your hand, I ain’t gotta shake it
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors
Clique too big, bread gotta break it
'Cause these others lowkey with the snakin', fakin'
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors, no favors
What I need?
No favors
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors
I’m about gettin' the job done, boy up every night
I’m about rollin' a seven when I toss up the dice
I’m about gettin' my logo all flooded with ice
I’m about takin' a risk that might fuck up your life
Tell 'em point and shoot like camera crews
In front of cameras too (brrr!)
Damn, Sean, what happened to the humble attitude?
I’m like, «Niggas took the flow, but I’m still standin' too.»
Thought I had the Midas touch, and then I went platinum too
Motherfuck all your comparisons (fuck 'em!)
I’ve been talkin' to God like that’s my therapist
I’m African-American in America, I ain’t inherit shit
But a millionaire under 30 so He must be hearin' shit
Don, don, don life, I do this for the crib, the D to Flint
Kids who get sick with lead, others get hit with the lead
From where they need a handout, but they tell you put hands up
Only deals I had was from the Sam’s Club
Now it’s blue blood in my veins, though you know what I came for
Born in a world goin' where they told me I can’t go
In my lane though, I’m in the same boat as Usain Bolt
Get ahead by any means so the head’s what I aim for
When my grandma died I realized I got an angel
Show me everything’s a blessing dependin' on the angles
Look, I am the anomaly, never needed favors or apologies
That’s my new lifetime policy
Woodgrain steering wheel, this bitch feel like a pirate ship
How many hot verses 'til you bitches start acknowledgin'
The pictures we been paintin'?
My nigga
Connected to a higher power—how I know?
'Cause I don’t write this shit: I think it, my nigga
Look, all I ever did was beat the odds
'Cause when you try to get even it just don’t even out
Never stoppin' like we hypnotized
Watch what we visualize on the rise
Be the G.O.A.T.
while we alive;
when we die, we gon' be the gods
Make it, make it, make it, boy, we gotta make it
You can save your hand, I ain’t gotta shake it
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors
Clique too big, bread gotta break it
'Cause these others lowkey with the snakin', fakin'
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors, no favors
If she was flavor, I won’t save her
No taste buds, ho, later!
Fuck you lookin' at, hater?
I saw them eyes like an ass raper
Try to copy my swag like a cheating classmate
I’ll be the last face you see 'fore you pass
When you get your fuckin' ass graded like a math paper
So ahead of my time, «late» means I’m early
My age is reversing, I’m basically thirty
Amazingly sturdy, zany and wordy
Brainy and nerdy, blatantly dirty
Insanely perverted, rapey and scurvy
They blame me for murdering Jamie Lee Curtis
Said I put her face in the furnace, beat her with a space heater
A piece of furniture, egg beater, thermos
It may be disturbing, what I’m saying’s cringeworthy
But I’m urinating on Fergie, call Shady number 81
Surely I’m turning into the Aaron Hernandez of rap
State of emergency, the planet’s having panic attacks
Brady’s returning, matter of fact I may be deserving
Of a pat on the back like a Patriots jersey
Inexplicable stomach growl from the pit of it
Like a fuckin' Terrier hid in it
Despicable, dumb it down, ridiculous
Tongue is foul, shoot off at the fuckin' mouth
Like a missile, a thunder cloud
Hundred pound pistol, pull the trigger, this gun will sound
And you’ll get a round like Digital Underground
And fuck Ann Coulter with a Klan poster
With a lamp post, door handle, shutter
A damn bolt cutter, a sandal, a can opener
A candle, rubber, piano, a flannel, sucker
Some hand soap, butter, a banjo and manhole cover
Hand over the mouth and nose smother
Trample ran over the tramp with the Land Rover
The band, the Lambo, Hummer and Road Runner
Go ham donut, or go Rambo, gut her, make an example of her
That’s for Sandra Bland, ho, and Philando
Hannibal on the lam, no wonder I am so stubborn
I’m anti, can’t no government handle a commando
Your man don’t want it
Trump’s a bitch, I’ll make his whole brand go under (yeah)
And tell Dre I’m meeting him in L.A.
White Bronco like Elway, speeding
I’m 'bout to run over a chick, Del Rey CD in?
Females stay beating 'em
Bet you they’ll lay bleeding, and yell, «wait,» pleading
But screaming is pointless like feeding Michel’le helium
Leaving 'em pale-faced, medium-sized welt
Straight treating 'em like a cellmate
Seedy, I’m climbing hell’s gate
Bitch, I’m like your problems: self-made
Meaning someone else’s help ain’t needed, 'cause I’ma—
Make it, make it, make it, boy, we gotta make it
You can save your hand, I ain’t gotta shake it
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors
Clique too big, bread gotta break it
'Cause these others lowkey with the snakin', fakin'
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors, no favors
What I need?
No favors
Everything lined up for the takin'
And what I need from 'em?
No favors
(I know you feeling yourself right now.)
(But I’m not sure she’s the one—I wouldn’t call her, man.)
«Hey, I’m outside.»
What are you doing here?