No Handouts Songtext
von Slaine

They say I′m cold-blooded, my flows are so rugged
My icy demeanor's foul, the public they don′t love it
Cause I'm so hated, they say that I'm ungrateful
That I made it cause my hunger ain′t faded from one plateful
It does nothing for me puffing off the blunts
I need two bitches nowadays to suck me off at once
A couple fat stacks for blackjack
I hit Nobu with my whole crew, black hoods and black hats
Sushi on my chopsticks, Polo logos on my boxers
Broken Prada frames on the Navigator floor
Hocking Louis out the door, I′m obnoxious
Five figure watches, tell the kids not to watch this
My rhythm is R-rated
My bitches are triple X, I'm sick and
Bizarre faded from liquor and hot-headed
Sick in the head, isn′t he?
I run the company, damn it, I love misery


Am I supposed to go and ask for a handout?
Or fall back and be shush like I can't shout?
Nah, I′ma get mine even if I gotta take yours
This is my world, this is my war
Am I supposed to go and ask for a handout?
Or fall back and be shush like I can't shout?
Nah, I′ma get mine even if I gotta take yours
This is my world, this is my war

I'ma get mine even if I gotta rob
And I don't listen to a boss, I don′t got a job
Am I supposed to go and wait for a handout?
Why would I play the sideline, homie? I stand out
I got determination burning, you can′t doubt
I was told I wasn't shit, I heard it straight from my aunt′s mouth
But is there any question what I'm capable of?
I came straight from the hate and inescapable love
I ran the streets late at night and learned the taste of the drugs
Scraping with thugs, pacing the basement, I′m bugged
But who am I to stop it? Who are you to judge me?
And who are they to hate me? Who are you to love me?
Shoot your guns and pray to God that you shoot above me
And miss me just slightly, look at my crisp Nikes
What have I done? Look at my little son, he's just like me
Son of a gun, what I′ve become is a bit sheisty