Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Don't Stop, artist - Kane West. Date of issue: 13.08.2015
Song language: English
Don't Stop |
| Explain yourself, how you sound like me? |
| the muthafucking skateboard P |
| knowing that your mee lo |
| playing games like you’re cee-lo |
| in a tight situation like speedo’s |
| you can have it your way like Carlito |
| my nigga will be happy to give you torpedos |
| and have you car twisted like a blunt |
| for you faggot ass niggas that like to front |
| I’m on some BBC bape shit |
| I’m on some cake shit |
| in the kitchen with the heat making beats in my apron |
| you hating and you want to erase it |
| close your eyes when you know you can’t take it |
| my flow interrupts your homeostasis |
| I Rolls Royce it on a regular basis |
| you talk street shit it sound like sweet shit |
| straight liquorice you niggas sound ticklish |
| 80k large for the Hermes dream |
| coke n crop in all your magazines |
| hunger strike yourself, look like Celine |
| Dion, me and my niggas like freon |
| you bitches on my pecan |
| she got an ass you can eat on |
| try to play tough like the leather on a Vuiton |
| I hit it til I could seat on |
| try to get her freak on |
| ask me to R Kelly ya and get pee’d on |
| I said it ain’t me maam |
| that 8 behind me still got the burner |
| yes the enzo is stilll black like Sojourner |
| truth, I mighta just loosened a tooth |
| spittin' what I did in the booth |
| I’m out, pooof! |
| Carrera, raised in a teenage mutant ninja turtle era |
| wanna bear n tell the truth, I dare ya |
| ya lie, so eat these whole bottle of these jalapeno peppers |
| for terror made in america too live |
| fuck the property or give me my props properly |
| high off life this high technology, DeVry |
| I rep Muhammad Ali more like rapology |
| my policy’s not to be dishonestly deprived |
| so gimme that, gimme that, keep going |
| where my city at, I’m like steak and fries but never die |
| they wanna Ghostface wanna be me |
| but they will post haste follow me into the after life |
| that means you going right after I’ve |
| but I’m the hero sort of like Jack Sparrow |
| so someway somehow I have survived |
| ha ha surprised |
| who is he that we see coming over the tides |
| in a speed boat, boat load of pride |
| Fall of Rome, dress shirted and mastermind tie |
| he what happens when rappping and happen the fashion collide |
| so OMG is the «C"from the C-R-S LOL’ing at you haters |
| tell your BFF’s like |
| Yes, Mr West turn that new child rebel |
| loud as a badass child level |
| who need a chorus we through with a tyrannosaurus |
| tyrone it’s been a year with no phone |
| could you explain how high is your zone |
| we’ll take the plane rub his nose in cocaine |
| there’s hoes in magazines you lame sayin you lame |
| and for the hate in advance, pull down your pants |
| make ‘em kiss both cheeks like we living in France |
| Diamonds blue, business manager’s Jewish |
| and if I get sued my lawyers Jews |
| some girls do, grab the cojones |
| say you got enough diamonds to at least Sierra Loan-us |
| brand new ferrari’s I gotta make the donuts |
| C-R-S is like a hip hop Christmas bonus |
| niggas is hating on the internet I couldn’t tell |
| I was too busy rapping GOOD as hell |
| I was too busy flying, parasail! |
| tell collect to get the new shit that Paris sell |
| Tarantino, Da Vinci, gettin' Benji’s, get half off Fendi |
| half of that’s to Cindy’s |
| hoped out the spaceship on my Mork and Mindy |
| popped too many corks to let you dork’s offend me |
| props in New York but Chi town’s the city |
| get my city hoochie’s Gucci, Monica Bellucci’s |
| are those the real millionnaires or the bendi’s? |
| I’m so ultra I’m even over Oprah |
| but let me check your account, haha no sir |
| Don’t stop, don’t stop… |