Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stop , by - J Dilla. Song from the album Donuts, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 06.02.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stones Throw
Song language: English
Stop |
| I’m a tell you broke niggas something |
| Listen |
| Make money, no vacation |
| Pay cash don’t make payments |
| Getting high like I’m eighteen |
| But I’ve been rich since the late eighty’s |
| Backstage, naked ladies |
| Poppin pills and swallowing babies |
| Bad bitches ain’t come to play |
| She gon' give me head before I go on stage |
| New car, a couple, a hundred |
| Ain’t nothin' I call it play money |
| Bugatti, Ferrari, the Benz, the Bentley |
| Juicy stay stuntin |
| Street niggas, we packin them 2's |
| Play with it, make action news |
| Put some money on your head, you worth a stack or two |
| Real nigga I’m 100, I stay leanin, I chase money |
| Niggas out here savin hoes, niggas need to be savin money |
| Made mine, can’t take it from me |
| Hit the club, I take your woman |
| Take her home, get some head, wake up breakfast in bed |
| Yeah nigga that’s grits and eggs |
| Rich bitch don’t forget the bread |
| Up and down that interstate |
| I move weight, that’s Jenny Craig |
| I’m a fuck me a model, I’m a fuck me a model |
| You only get to live one time, so I’m a fuck me a model |
| I make money all day then I ball with the profits |
| Niggas hate on me, I tell em hatin' niggas stop it |
| Go fuck with a bitch, get that becky then I’m gone |
| Catch me on that loud pack, blowin on this strong |
| Straight out of North niggas nigga |
| 20 years in |
| Still rich and ain’t gon stop getting rich |
| Told you niggas I ain’t never gonna stop getting money |
| Let’s get it |
| Bitch you ain’t no killa |
| And real niggas don’t talk |
| Start shit in this club |
| It’s going down in the parking lot |
| Niggas get killed and then we ain’t shedding no tears |
| Niggas can’t keep they mouth closed, judge give you them years |
| Yo homie fuckin yo bitch |
| And she ain’t duckin yo cock |
| Them noobies ain’t holding you down |
| And you call them niggas yo dogs |
| They really out here hatin so stay strapped up like a tight |
| They got guns, they got them rubies |
| Except they not shootin blanks |
| Pass straight them, broad daylight |
| They don’t care who lookin |
| Young niggas got something to prove, niggas think he pushin |
| Playin round in my hood and I’ll smoke you like a swisha |
| We don’t care bout money and we don’t play with them pistols |