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Stop Lyrics

from Unfinished Business

"Stop" is track #6 on the album Unfinished Business. It was written by Carter, Shawn / Marchand, Inga D / Barnes, Samuel J / Kelly, Robert S / Olivier, Jean Claude.
"Stop" is track #6 on the album Unfinished Business. It was written by Carter, Shawn / Marchand, Inga D / Barnes, Samuel J / Kelly, Robert S / Olivier, Jean Claude.

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Swizzy Beats

Aiyo, I cannot, I will not
(Stop, stop)
As we proceed

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 [unverified] 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

Aiyo, I cannot, I will not
(Stop, stop)
As we proceed

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

Aiyo, I cannot, I will not
(Stop, stop)
As we proceed

Songwriters
CARTER, SHAWN / MARCHAND, INGA D / BARNES, SAMUEL J / KELLY, ROBERT S / OLIVIER, JEAN CLAUDE

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network

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