Big Sean - feat Eminem-No Favors

[Chorus: Big Sean]

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

[Verse 1: Big Sean]

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

[Chorus: Big Sean]

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

[Verse 2: Eminem]

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—

[Chorus: Big Sean]

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

[Outro]

(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?