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Текст песни Copywrite - Won`t Stop

Copywrite - Won`t Stop слова песни

[Verse One]Models and dimes, ugly hoes follow insideProud of my dick and mad chicks swallow my prideGetting head jobs from strippersTwisted off the eggnog and liquor, a big dog like CliffordMelt gimmicks every time I spitWith rhymes like crowds in health clinics cause every line is sickI squeeze clips at each cliqueTo see how they deal with heat when I put them under arms like speed stickPlease bitch, with metal to your frameI rep the C. O. nonstop, it`s the first two letters of my nameCompetitors are slain by this intelligent gunnerQuick to pop the trunk like an elephant hunterAnd you might be upset, your dad and I got something in commonYour mom kissing both our babies right before bedAnd like me or not, bitch I`m `bout to light me a spliffSo any shit you got to spit I`ll more than likely forget[Verse Two]I talk a lot of shit cause I know a lot of shitYour bitch comes to my show to swallow a lot of dickSo 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 tapeNow for your album you`re left with shit you wrote in sixth gradeThat`s why I don`t rhyme on mix tapesI mix hate and science and spit straight sick shit your bitch hatesOn Tower I admit rapeAnd it was well worth the gas and the switchblade it took to get laidPlus your girl looks like a great fuckBut that`s only from the face down and the waist upAnd I got eight sluts, one for each day I wake upPlus an extra for the morning I die laying face upI`ll pull you out your truck, get slammed up the dashFor rhyming like you got your hands and fists crammed up your assPull out the thirty-eight, hold it to the crowdAnd leave every critic`s body that dissed me "Holier Than Thou"Extinguish the hottest emcee`s matchWhen I cuff the mic at twelve decibels I still get positive feedback[Verse Three]Saw your one blunt and that dirty ain`t worth the buyRaw and uncut like Eddie Murphy uncircumcisedWhen Copywrite`s on tour stop and hide your whoreCertified thief, alarms go off when I walk inside the storeO. H. ten, been repping the stateFrom the second I stepped on the stage till I`m dead in a graveAnd got a buzz but my head isn`t shaved"Get the leaves and doja", sick of being sober and my medicine`s hazeVeteran praise… and I don`t write for the wealthI`ll stage my own death, come back and ghost write for myselfYour dis backs weren`t able to helpMe and RJ`s like slip mats, ??? ????? turntables were feltNow pray for yourselves, still opponents lost a spar againI can`t be faded like a homeless RastafarianBefore I rock the booth I need lots of lootGot it coming together like Siamese prostitutes

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