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(Simon Lindvall)

This is a song about friends using you for money and not having anything themselves. 2 hooks 1 verse

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Hook: You got your hand out wanting something from me You must be too high I slap your wrist so you got a five. that's the only thing coming Hope you realize. The only times you call is when you need dollars If you call again there’s gonna be deep problems So center yourself, you ain't getting my balance Now you hating on me like i got no talent Verse: Spec yourself you gotta respect yourself Cause no man will help So put the fake friends with no goals On the shelf They in prison you with no ambition Make you do what they wanna They don't see commas if its not in they hand they cant think longer They want shit on demand And when they can’t get it they complain about Instead of doing shit about it Its either Hands out or hands in pockets Like where’s the profit You ask yourself everyday but lets be honest If French made from there who the fuck can stop you Staring success in the face and think you got it Thank god you in a stare still. Cause i swoop in and grab it i will Do anything for it Do anything morbid Shoot off like a warhead no wonder he exploded Cause he wanted this but couldn't afford it. Hook: You got your hand out wanting something from me You must be too high I slap your wrist so you got a five. that's the only thing coming Hope you realize. The only times you call is when you need dollars If you call again there’s gonna be deep problems So center yourself, you ain't getting my balance Now you hating on me like i got no talent

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