Slim Santana – NO FRIENDS

Slim Santana – NO FRIENDS Lyrics

Artist: Slim Santana
Song: NO FRIENDS

Pain inside my eyes
Cartier my lens
Pain inside my eyes
All this pain inside my eyes

Cartier my lens though
Vlone on my shirt uh
I don’t wanna be friends though
That switchie all on my side

I call that b#tch my bang bro
When that b#tch get to rippin’ it sound like a MAC-11
Heard your dawg was a pet, he went straight to heaven
Hit that boy with the Draco, {?}

And I got a bad tipper {?}
I don’t care if we hoopin, you ain’t gon’ check me
Put that boy in the blender, he actin messy
Quick to kick the b#tch out like I’m Lionel Messi

I don’t need a player I’m what a player need
Got a bad b#tch all on her knees
How the f#ck I get rich with no degree
Benji, call me Swiss Cheese

Old stick up, gotta let that b#tch breathe
Brand new Glock, that’s .233
Make for the switch gotta let the b#tch breathe
I’m {?} from the hood like Jordan no {?}

Big thug motivation, like Benji no G
Gotta make it lil’ easy, real hotboy like {?}
1100 Block, yeah the streets they needs me
I’m the one everyone depends on

I’m the-I’m the one that {?}
All this pain inside my eyes
Cartier my lens though
Vlone on my shirt uh

I don’t wanna be friends though
That switchie all on my side
I call that b#tch my bang bro
When that b#tch get to rippin’ it sound like a MAC-11

Heard your dawg was a pet, he went straight to heaven
Hit that boy with the Draco, {?}
And I got a bad tipper {?}
I don’t care if we hoopin, you ain’t gon’ check me

Put that boy in the blender, he actin messy
Quick to kick the b#tch out like I’m Lionel Messi
I don’t need a player I’m what a player need
Got a bad b#tch all on her knees

How the f#ck I get rich with no degree
Gotta dough hard for my C
And everything paid I need that D
On God {?}

‘Long as I’m here the racks on me
Caught this b#tch
Choppa break a n#gg# down like a KitKat
If a n#gg# sending shots it get sent back

Pop a Percocet, like them b#tches Tic Tac’s
{?} a mismatch
If you get it too I can get your sh#t back
Stupid ran up, now you in a shitbag

g#dd#mn boy I’m tryna get ’em toe tagged
Caught ’em down bad empty out the whole mag
I ain’t stunna hoe, n#gg# my b#tch bad
Thirty racks put that sh#t in her Chanel bag

Put the dick down her mouth and she won’t gag
Juggin’ expert with this sh#t, these n#gg#s mad that I done ran it up
Two hundred racks I got that sh#t stuffed in my Louie duff
I’m in New York with all the vibes just like I’m Diddy Puff

I told my youngin’ we want them millions, the hundreds just ain’t enough
All this pain inside my eyes
Cartier my lens though
Vlone on my shirt uh

I don’t wanna be friends though
That switchie all on my side
I call that b#tch my bang bro
When that b#tch get to rippin’ it sound like a MAC-11

Heard your dawg was a pet, he went straight to heaven
Hit that boy with the Draco, {?}
And I got a bad tipper {?}
I don’t care if we hoopin, you ain’t gon’ check me

Put that boy in the blender, he actin messy
Quick to kick the b#tch out like I’m Lionel Messi
I don’t need a player I’m what a player need
Got a bad b#tch all on her knees

How the f#ck I get rich with no degree
Find more lyrics at https://dcslyrics.com

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Slim Santana Lyrics – NO FRIENDS

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Release Year: 2020