Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Won't Stop, artist - Copywrite. Date of issue: 14.11.2002
Song language: English
Won't Stop |
| Models and dimes, ugly hoes follow inside |
| Proud of my dick and mad chicks swallow my pride |
| Getting head jobs from strippers |
| Twisted off the eggnog and liquor, a big dog like Clifford |
| Melt gimmicks every time I spit |
| With rhymes like crowds in health clinics cause every line is sick |
| I squeeze clips at each clique |
| To see how they deal with heat when I put them under arms like speed stick |
| Please bitch, with metal to your frame |
| I rep the C. O. nonstop, it’s the first two letters of my name |
| Competitors are slain by this intelligent gunner |
| Quick to pop the trunk like an elephant hunter |
| And you might be upset, your dad and I got something in common |
| Your mom kissing both our babies right before bed |
| And like me or not, bitch I’m 'bout to light me a spliff |
| So any shit you got to spit I’ll more than likely forget |
| I talk a lot of shit cause I know a lot of shit |
| Your bitch comes to my show to swallow a lot of dick |
| So which idiot should I shit on? |
| The one that spit on the mic or his friend who convinced him to get on? |
| You spit your best shit on everybody’s mix tape |
| Now for your album you’re left with shit you wrote in sixth grade |
| That’s why I don’t rhyme on mix tapes |
| I mix hate and science and spit straight sick shit your bitch hates |
| On Tower I admit rape |
| And it was well worth the gas and the switchblade it took to get laid |
| Plus your girl looks like a great fuck |
| But that’s only from the face down and the waist up |
| And I got eight sluts, one for each day I wake up |
| Plus an extra for the morning I die laying face up |
| I’ll pull you out your truck, get slammed up the dash |
| For rhyming like you got Jim Henson’s fist crammed up your ass |
| Pull out the thirty-eight, hold it to the crowd |
| And leave every critic’s body that dissed me «Holier Than Thou» |
| Extinguish the hottest emcee’s match |
| When I cuff the mic at twelve decibels I still get positive feedback |
| Saw your one blunt and that dirty ain’t worth the buy |
| Raw and uncut like Eddie Murphy uncircumcised |
| When Copywrite’s on tour stop and hide your whore |
| Certified thief, alarms go off when I walk inside the store |
| O. H. ten, been repping the state |
| From the second I stepped on the stage till I’m dead in a grave |
| And got a buzz but my head isn’t shaved |
| «Get the leaves and doja», sick of being sober and my medicine’s haze |
| Veteran praise… and I don’t write for the wealth |
| I’ll stage my own death, come back and ghost write for myself |
| Your dis backs weren’t able to help |
| Me and RJ’s like slip mats, ??? |
| ??? |
| turntables were felt |
| Now pray for yourselves, still opponents lost a spar again |
| I can’t be faded like a homeless Rastafarian |
| Before I rock the booth I need lots of loot |
| Got it coming together like Siamese prostitutes |