Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stop , by - Giorgio Moroder. Song from the album Schlagermoroder Vol. 1 - 1966 - 1975, in the genre ДискоRelease date: 08.05.2013
Record label: Repertoire
Song language: English
Stop |
| Young Hov got the block on smash |
| Put the gun to the back and hop on some ass |
| Nigga fresh-dressed and stay poppin’tags |
| Put the (?) on the truck 'for I drop the rag |
| Bitches want to bring up the topic of my past |
| It’s legendary in the hood how I got my cash |
| I’m legendady in the hood so I got the mag |
| And I’ve never been a fronter so I’ve got to blast |
| Will I flash… Not… |
| As I’m not playing with you motherfuckers the casket drops |
| You bastards not gon’assassinate the name I got |
| Ya’ll hear me though |
| Young Hov got the block on smash |
| And everybody and their momma want to stop my cash |
| Everybody want drama with the top of the brass |
| 'Til I come through hop out the cab |
| 1−8-7 they ass |
| (Stop) Somebody 'gon (Drop) Ya’ll hear me though… |
| Young Hov got the game in a frenzy |
| Twenty million sold all independently |
| So when you mention me Make sure you got together your 'semblies |
| Like he’s the games J.F.Kennedy |
| I started out I ain’t have no chimney |
| My ma was Santa Claus, well at least she pretended to be |
| 'Til one night, well that’s if memory serves me correct I caught her under |
| the Christmas tree |
| Young Hov ain’t have no pops |
| Thank God man I had the block |
| Ya’ll hear me though |
| You young fucks got the game all wrong |
| This is my life man this ain’t no song |
| You ain’t livin’your rhymes out, you live at your mom’s house |
| In that tight-ass room, pullin’the cars out |
| And the mirror pointin’at your reflection, killing yourself |
| You American Pie, stop feeling yourself |
| Nigga, you just a worker, go deal yourself |
| Stop being a server, get a meal yourself |
| Where your heart at, all that yick-yack, ain’t nobody scared of your gats |
| We got bigger ones |
| How many niggas done shot at me shivering |
| They were so scared they ain’t hit me once |
| Young Hov 'bout to go to the range |
| 'Bout to work on perfecting my aim |