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no friends - slim santana lyrics

[intro: slim santana]
pain inside my eyes
cartier my lens
pain inside my eyes
[?]

[chorus: slim santana]
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

[verse 1: ysl benji]
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 [?]
[chorus: slim santana]
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

[verse 2: slim santana]
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*gga down like a kitkat
if a n*gga 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 sh*tbag
godd*mn boy i’m tryna get ’em toe tagged
caught ’em down bad empty out the whole mag
i ain’t stunna hoe, n*gga my b*tch bad
thirty racks put that sh*t in her chanel bag
put the d*ck down her mouth and she won’t gag
juggin’ expert with this sh*t, these n*ggas 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
[chorus: slim santana]
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

- slim santana lyrics

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