| You ain’t never counted paper 'til your thumbs hurt
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| You ain’t never had to make do wit' bum work
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| Shit ain’t comin' back, you get delirious
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| It’s a job in these streets, shit is serious
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| My 'migo got locks in the city mud
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| Back against the wall and I need a plug
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| Flew the fam to the yams, verse the Heat
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| I had twenty thousand grams just last week
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| Shit stopped comin', bills keep comin' 'round
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| Holdin' on my last bird, 'bout to break it down
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| Charged you higher out of town, then I went in Brooklyn
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| Phone blowin' up, the homies ask how it’s lookin'
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| You think if I had the work
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| I wouldn’t call you to sell it, you fuckin' jerk?
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| You start gettin' mad, talkin' out of frustration
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| In the game, six figures can easily turn to nothin'
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| Damn, I’m hot, dog
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| The fork on the Masi grill pickin' up guap, dog
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| Bought a white house off blocks dog
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| In the presidential, watch me go to the top, dog
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| Man, I got that glow
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| I done came on up from the motherfuckin' floor
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| Couple niggas be hatin', I Just be like, 'So?'
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| I never get mad, I just get that dough
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| If the shit get bad, then I let that go
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| You do it cause you have to, I do it cause I could
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| And this is all factual, I do it for the hood
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| Cock the four, cop and go
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| Cause these drugs are for sale, they are not for show
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| Keep a eye on the monitors and lock the doors
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| No comprende unless it’s 'bout lots of dough
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| They love it, they still want it, the block is still haunted
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| Turbo in the garage, the cover is still on it
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| One hundred bundles by 9AM, it’s a ill mornin'
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| A nigga lookin' good, the bitches is still on him
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| Money, power, mega respect
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| Al-Qaeda is how I got the montega connect
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| If that paper ain’t right, they put the K to your neck
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| Give your family a visit, they send your baby a threat
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| A lil' deeper than the repurcussions on the block
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| But that all bein' said, is you hustler or not?
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| I don’t get mad, I get dough, I get bags and get low
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| Everybody wit' me good, my bitch bad as shit though
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| You get gas, you Citgo, we whip ass, we Klitschko
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| It gets bad and shit slow, we really with the shits, bro
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| Twist your cap for it, Kinda sick with the thirst too
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| When I’m hungry, I ain’t myself, Snickers commercial
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| I got to eat before a nigga catch a attitude, And Start looking at the game
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| like its platter food
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| Fuck sandwiches, I want the chips and dip
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| Whips are quick, Contours, seats grips the hip
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| That’s 63 Talk, at least a hundred grand to understand
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| They put me on a flyer for twenty, I’m a wanted man
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| Son of Sam, I was born in '77
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| The bitch a late-night Slurpee, She 7/11
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| Yeah, the family, so you gotta love it
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| I’m a boss, so I got it covered |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Do Me No Favors , by - Troy Ave. Song from the album Major Without a Deal Reloaded, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп