No Favors

[Produced by FrancisGotHeat & WondaGurl] [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?