Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Can't Stop , by - Too Short Presents UGK, Layzie Bone, Koffee & Various OthersRelease date: 14.06.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Can't Stop |
| Space, Age-in baby |
| Right right right right |
| One time |
| Beyotch! |
| Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can’t retire! |
| Verse One: Too $hort, Eightball |
| From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight |
| I Don’t Stop Rappin like my first tapes |
| When I was broke, I used to sell em instantly (instantly) |
| One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (pimp in me) |
| In eighty-nine, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E) |
| A bunch of fine bitches tryin to sleep with me |
| Every night, sold out, turnin young hoes |
| Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo' mouth |
| I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes |
| Always fucked up in niggas bitches all the time |
| Now I’m ridin on twenties wearin nice clothes |
| But ain’t nuttin like pimpin hoes, and ridin Vogues |
| I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness |
| I’m so glad, to get to the point of havin this |
| Opportunity, for you and me to pass it on |
| Two years ago, I thought it’d be my last song |
| Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street |
| Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats |
| Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn’t straight, but I was makin it |
| Niggas like Lil' Tim was out there ballin sellin cakes n shit |
| I was right there, on the Mob Circle, writin raps |
| All about my snaps, tryin to put Ball and G on the map |
| Nowadays I own my shit and bone bad bitches |
| Kickin it with rich niggas in rollers, and candy sixes |
| Deliverin hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs |
| Niggas who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs |
| Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic main |
| $hort Dawg, I don’t know why you tryin to leave this game |
| State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make |
| Writing raps, makin more than them niggas movin weight |
| The game been good to me, and I know that muhfucka bless you |
| Thanks for passin game, now let’s get out here and make this loot |
| Chorus: Too $hort, Eightball, MJG |
| I won’t stop rappin, I don’t stop rappin |
| I got too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin |
| We some presidential players, with money by the layers |
| Ain’t nuthin you broke ass niggas do that can fade us |
| I won’t stop rappin, I don’t stop rappin |
| I got too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin |
| I drive fast cars, eat lunch by lakes |
| and meet a hundred different bitches when I drop new tapes |
| Verse Two: MJG, Too $hort |
| I had to sacrifice, get things right |
| In this rap life, I paid my dues |
| Learn how to crawl, before I walk |
| Then I learned how to tie my shoes |
| Tryin crime, but it just didn’t work for me |
| Matter of fact it did it worse for me |
| Gettin eyes scarred, bein weak one time ya hard |
| It can only do hurt to me |
| So I sucked up my peer pressure, and my pride |
| And realized that this rap shit was gon help me to survive |
| Stay alive, go with the flow but don’t be no muhfuckin fool |
| Hell this music thing is all I got, I ain’t makin straight A’s in school |
| And ain’t wind up to be dumber nigga, only to be different |
| So all the shit that you think we are, the shit that we isn’t |
| When you raised up, where I come from, make it out is a blessing |
| Cause half the cats, where I come from, don’t ever learn they lessons |
| My first love, even before I had a daughter, or a lady |
| Was rappin, sweet lyrics, I love you, my baby |
| MJG, what you see, on TV, is fame |
| But the rapper I let loose almost anything, I love this game |
| I won’t stop rappin, I don’t stop rappin |
| I make too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin |
| I live the fast life of a MC |
| And I sell a lot of records makin pimp beats |
| I could do a show tonight and make ten G’s |
| Fuck til the mornin, sleep late and smoke weed |
| Three cars in my garage, truck in the driveway |
| I always, get my dick sucked on the highway |
| Verse Three: Eightball, MJG |
| My way (pimp til I dieee) fuck a hoe |
| Unless that hoe is breakin me off some dough, to hit the studio |
| Blowin, niggas ain’t knowin, how far this shit is goin |
| I wrote all my shit, but niggas always talkin bout what I owe them |
| But I’m gon' show them, real niggas stand on they own ten toes |
| So I’ma make all the money, and try my best to fuck all these hoes |
| Friend or foe, a bitch or hoe, rich or po' |
| Eightball got flow, MJG |
| Here comes the one they call the P-I, M-P, never will retire |
| The tree-high, green leaf, helps me to get higher |
| Eightball and MJG, Too $hort, we all must be |
| The pimps of the industry, shit people pretend to be |
| Fuck so why should we, settle down |
| Leave the kitchen put the kettles down |
| Stop from fillin all you hoes |
| Give up the life of trues and vogues |
| Hell no, it ain’t gon' happen, this shit too deep |
| So I hooked up with my comrades so we can all get rich, nigga |
| Yea yea, one time, for your motherfuckin mind |
| Pimp shit bitch |
| Eightball and MJG, now what you weigh me |
| $hort Dawg in the house, slammin Cadillac do’s, pimpin hoes |
| Nuthin but the real shit, nine-eight, for these tricks it’s too late |
| It’s that old school pimpin all the way from Memphis, to Oakland |
| Straight smokin baby, fryin em up fat |
| Atlanta to Houston, we still doin it like this |
| Yea, New York to L. A |
| Beyitch! |
| Hah, that’s right, Space Age forever, nigga |
| T-Mix on the funk |
| Dangerous Music, uhh |
| Suave House |
| I love that! |