Can't Stop - elbow

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!