Sauce Money, Snowgoons, Wais P - No Favors lyrics
[Sauce Money, Snowgoons, Wais P - No Favors lyrics]
Top notch players, rhyme sayers
Nigga we don’t do favors, you gotta pay us
Ten thousand (more) , twenty thousand (more)
Thumbing through hundreds
Can’t stop counting
Drug money (drugs) , ho money (hoes)
Whatever as long as it’s your money
Get off my corner, this grow money
You can’t sell around here, you get no money
Fuck a- ah i was told to walk with Jesus
I spark with the heaters
I talk to the non-believers
Through the speakers
Either get in line or get low
I get in shorty’s mind
Turn a square into a ho
I fuck with real players that
Sniff blow and get dough
Turned from a rapper to a pimp, I’m a skitzo
Superman without the krypto, you get no love
I tip toe let the fifth blow slugs
I put mink on the rug, ‘chilla on my back
My hand around her throat till
She deliver me a stack
Where my real niggas at?
I figure that my fanbase push Cadillacs
Nothin but MACs
Weight holders and money folders
Surrounded by soldiers
I never sober cause I know I
Ain’t living to be much older
I’m so colder, you’re so over
My flow’s nova
You’re like the dirt on my shoulder
Brush it off
Sauce Money, mom’s the word
I just come to serve all of a hundred birds
You run with herbs, my thugs elite
Hold your block down
When I squeeze you hug the street
All that rotten talk’ll get
You is homicide chalk
And candles when you kiss that sidewalk
I’m a don with a plan that disappears
At night like Akon with a tan
Stacks in the palm of my hand
Competition wishing they me
I did in one hour what
Took them till day three
Nigga my fan base is the AC
Expensive grapes I taste lately
Money make me feel like I’m 8’3"
Sitting on cash is how you pay me
There’s no wonder that you feel
That you ain’t me
Nigga we don’t do favors, you gotta pay us
Ten thousand (more) , twenty thousand (more)
Thumbing through hundreds
Can’t stop counting
Drug money (drugs) , ho money (hoes)
Whatever as long as it’s your money
Get off my corner, this grow money
You can’t sell around here, you get no money
Fuck a- ah i was told to walk with Jesus
I spark with the heaters
I talk to the non-believers
Through the speakers
Either get in line or get low
I get in shorty’s mind
Turn a square into a ho
I fuck with real players that
Sniff blow and get dough
Turned from a rapper to a pimp, I’m a skitzo
Superman without the krypto, you get no love
I tip toe let the fifth blow slugs
I put mink on the rug, ‘chilla on my back
My hand around her throat till
She deliver me a stack
Where my real niggas at?
I figure that my fanbase push Cadillacs
Nothin but MACs
Weight holders and money folders
Surrounded by soldiers
I never sober cause I know I
Ain’t living to be much older
I’m so colder, you’re so over
My flow’s nova
You’re like the dirt on my shoulder
Brush it off
Sauce Money, mom’s the word
I just come to serve all of a hundred birds
You run with herbs, my thugs elite
Hold your block down
When I squeeze you hug the street
All that rotten talk’ll get
You is homicide chalk
And candles when you kiss that sidewalk
I’m a don with a plan that disappears
At night like Akon with a tan
Stacks in the palm of my hand
Competition wishing they me
I did in one hour what
Took them till day three
Nigga my fan base is the AC
Expensive grapes I taste lately
Money make me feel like I’m 8’3"
Sitting on cash is how you pay me
There’s no wonder that you feel
That you ain’t me