Can’t Stop Won’t Stop

[Intro]
Shout out MIKA, my bruh
For the whole mob
I ain't never had no job
Always been my own boss
I don't do no dead food, I do my own wash
I don't need no dead food
Yeah, I do my own wash
My life

[Verse 1]
Can't stop, won't stop (Never)
Free the hitters social-ed locked
Do it for the whole mob (Free the mandem)
Body show, dome shot (Bow)
Sticky if it goes off
Tryna blow your nose off
Hella trips to make the phone pop (Brrr)
Yayo comin' so soft
Can't stop, won't stop
Flyin', better blow cops
Fuck my old opps, I get it poppin' in the clothes shop
Every couple week I get the phone gone, road's hot
Need to hose off
Smoke Cali, gettin' blowjobs
I need a whole box for my own spot
Remember waitin' for the drone drop
Can't stop, won't stop
Send my youngin's to the O spot
Studio, the phone's off (Kway)
I gotta treat it like the coke spot
Smokin on mimosa
Two-hundred K with no prompter (Mad)
Clout, blow me over

[Verse 2]
Packs flippin' over, whippin' soda (Flip it)
Ask your older
Licks hit with a Jack Revolver
If I back the toaster
Have to ghost you flippin' joker (Trippin')
Must be sniffin' coca
Clock's tickin' over, packs tickin' over
Got her doin' yoga, told her hold the super soaker (Hold that)
If I get wrapped with this wap, then it's movie over (Movie done)
Can't stop, won't stop
‘Less they like me like the grow shop (Haha)
‘Member time when I had no gwop
But you'll never make my soul stop
Energies are so strong
‘Member waitin' so long
‘Times it's best to prolong
Sittin' in my cell, hiddin' zancos in roll-ons (Mad)
I bet I make ‘em hear it like an old song (Feel it like an old song)

[Verse 3]
Can't rest, can't rest, won't rest
Believin' in the process
Every day's a progress
Slow steps, I need my own clothes next (Trust)
I really need a grown check
Funny nigga gassed off a Rolex
Stackin' for a home? You need to go bed
My young hitter gettin' active off a moped (Gang)
They ain't new to cash
My young niggas movin' mad
Pop you for a Louis bag (Murder)
All he ever wanted was some Gucci rags (Mad)
Puttin' moves to plan
Put in too for fags before we move to traps
Now everybody shootin' straps (Pow)
Well, where the shootings at? (Where they at?)
Don't get too attached
Roads'll have you doin' laps (Laps)
Gettin' dots 'til I drop
Turned me so rotten
I can feel my soul rottin'
Grew around fiends with no teeth but I'm dough gettin' (Money, man)
Bally on me, ho gettin', dough makin'
Probably snake your own brethren for some road-readys
So hellish, so reckless
Hit the studio with no effort, kill the whole session

[Outro]
Light work