Stop It (feat. Problem & Bad Lucc) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Stop It (feat. Problem & Bad Lucc) |
| 歌手 | Halo |
| 专辑 | Mansa Musa (Guest Starring Masta Killa) |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1: Problem] | |
| I dig hoes, I’m a grave digger | |
| So I got hoes like NBA *****s | |
| Let’s have a dunk [?] uncle times | |
| Got ‘em all from my uncle’s line | |
| Learnt me somethin’ in my uncle’s pond | |
| Everything was, seen heroin swoon into a guy’s veins | |
| His body moves then his brain turns to Charlemagne | |
| It’s a wild thing, life's just a wild game | |
| Ball or die with [?], Crips turn to Bloods | |
| *****s like “bah!” man that’s so gay then find out that boy “bah!” | |
| He like no way, it was just that one time | |
| We like, "Ok, we don’t wanna know why, ain’t no need for alibi" | |
| Either way it’s all | |
| Be yourself brody, he love you | |
| Diamond Lane, we in position to bubble, fumble, we takin’ it from you | |
| You heard me bruh -- we takin’ it from you | |
| Boy we’ll son you, whoop you then love you | |
| Man you know haters in a different light | |
| Throwin’ bricks and bikes at the different type | |
| Murder *****es get your mister sniped | |
| Turn your day black as Mr. Snipes | |
| Standin’ in a dark room searchin’ for a kitchen light, mutha*****a with the | |
| Shots to the Nazi, Germany birthplace my birthday caused earthquakes | |
| Way over there, ***** like, waaay over there | |
| Compton like "keep that ***** over there" | |
| Hell no this | |
| [Hook 1: HaLo] | |
| She won’t pop it for a profit, gettin’ profit | |
| And there’s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there’s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| [Verse 2: HaLo] | |
| The black sound for the background comin’ back around | |
| Gotta have a frown then have the head that wears the crown | |
| Underdog up stream paddle now | |
| Samuari swords on the battle ground | |
| Buds purple and brown, Khrysis to murda sound | |
| The word around now we runnin’ circles ‘round crews | |
| Love it when they hate to lose | |
| Use these emotions to over power you fools | |
| Why? Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| In too deep like that pool stick cue, ***** | |
| Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| You’re in too deep, you’re defences weak | |
| ***** | |
| [Hook 2: HaLo] | |
| She won’t pop it for a profit, gettin’ profit | |
| And there’s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there’s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| She let me pop it in her pocket when she drop it | |
| Oh the way she wop it, oh the way she wop it | |
| I ain’t listen before and got raw and there’s no way I can stop it | |
| No way I can stop it | |
| [Verse 3: Bad Lucc] | |
| Freakishly Hollywood, [?] | |
| [?] night, it's all quiet [?] ha ha | |
| It’s the father of the gun clap and the break beat | |
| Chicken scratch on the lay sheet | |
| Son of Jerome and Mary and legendary that [?] | |
| Fightin’ for the title, rival with Gods and idols | |
| Writin’ ad libs in the bible | |
| One description's like I'm [?] | |
| And bamboos let me cross the land ooh | |
| Certify my emcee card is valid till I can’t move | |
| Pass me my dance shoes and you, you go run amuck | |
| Tell the people how I came | |
| Tell ‘em stories how I bust | |
| Tell ‘em life is full of lessons, either stick or get stuck | |
| Tell him he should be the illest, who is he, he is Lucc | |
| I stand tall, write my name on a great wall like Zorro | |
| Or Spit on Ramo, chased down by the plain clothes | |
| Ross represented and Diamond Lane the definitive | |
| Hail staff, blood bath, vindictive | |
| The last rapper potty trained, *****ttin’ on the console | |
| I go, go so much as mumbo sauce around the condo | |
| Black out any semi [?] load of pennies [Remy?] | |
| Got me seein’ demons holy water over [?] me | |
| [?] but I can stretch the flow me out the a**os- | |
| -phere never knew such, I’mma walk across the atlas | |
| With a [?] full of [?] | |
| ***** don’t touch the slice you should know better | |
| Back to the raw get the [?] | |
| Aw, I be prayin’ to God, keep my victims in hot | |
| Aw *****, naw *****, who got lose? | |
| [?] Daniel's son was a *****, I’m Mr. Miyake doggie bag, "ruff!" | |
| They whisper with a whimper, ‘member? | |
| They remember bloody bodies on my timber, ‘member? | |
| So I stockpile styles I invented in mind | |
| So if I ever die no one can ever find | |
| [Hook] |
| Verse 1: Problem | |
| I dig hoes, I' m a grave digger | |
| So I got hoes like NBA s | |
| Let' s have a dunk ? uncle times | |
| Got ' em all from my uncle' s line | |
| Learnt me somethin' in my uncle' s pond | |
| Everything was, seen heroin swoon into a guy' s veins | |
| His body moves then his brain turns to Charlemagne | |
| It' s a wild thing, life' s just a wild game | |
| Ball or die with ?, Crips turn to Bloods | |
| s like " bah!" man that' s so gay then find out that boy " bah!" | |
| He like no way, it was just that one time | |
| We like, " Ok, we don' t wanna know why, ain' t no need for alibi" | |
| Either way it' s all | |
| Be yourself brody, he love you | |
| Diamond Lane, we in position to bubble, fumble, we takin' it from you | |
| You heard me bruh we takin' it from you | |
| Boy we' ll son you, whoop you then love you | |
| Man you know haters in a different light | |
| Throwin' bricks and bikes at the different type | |
| Murder es get your mister sniped | |
| Turn your day black as Mr. Snipes | |
| Standin' in a dark room searchin' for a kitchen light, mutha a with the | |
| Shots to the Nazi, Germany birthplace my birthday caused earthquakes | |
| Way over there, like, waaay over there | |
| Compton like " keep that over there" | |
| Hell no this | |
| Hook 1: HaLo | |
| She won' t pop it for a profit, gettin' profit | |
| And there' s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there' s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| Verse 2: HaLo | |
| The black sound for the background comin' back around | |
| Gotta have a frown then have the head that wears the crown | |
| Underdog up stream paddle now | |
| Samuari swords on the battle ground | |
| Buds purple and brown, Khrysis to murda sound | |
| The word around now we runnin' circles ' round crews | |
| Love it when they hate to lose | |
| Use these emotions to over power you fools | |
| Why? Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| In too deep like that pool stick cue, | |
| Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| You' re in too deep, you' re defences weak | |
| Hook 2: HaLo | |
| She won' t pop it for a profit, gettin' profit | |
| And there' s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there' s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| She let me pop it in her pocket when she drop it | |
| Oh the way she wop it, oh the way she wop it | |
| I ain' t listen before and got raw and there' s no way I can stop it | |
| No way I can stop it | |
| Verse 3: Bad Lucc | |
| Freakishly Hollywood, ? | |
| ? night, it' s all quiet ? ha ha | |
| It' s the father of the gun clap and the break beat | |
| Chicken scratch on the lay sheet | |
| Son of Jerome and Mary and legendary that ? | |
| Fightin' for the title, rival with Gods and idols | |
| Writin' ad libs in the bible | |
| One description' s like I' m ? | |
| And bamboos let me cross the land ooh | |
| Certify my emcee card is valid till I can' t move | |
| Pass me my dance shoes and you, you go run amuck | |
| Tell the people how I came | |
| Tell ' em stories how I bust | |
| Tell ' em life is full of lessons, either stick or get stuck | |
| Tell him he should be the illest, who is he, he is Lucc | |
| I stand tall, write my name on a great wall like Zorro | |
| Or Spit on Ramo, chased down by the plain clothes | |
| Ross represented and Diamond Lane the definitive | |
| Hail staff, blood bath, vindictive | |
| The last rapper potty trained, ttin' on the console | |
| I go, go so much as mumbo sauce around the condo | |
| Black out any semi ? load of pennies Remy? | |
| Got me seein' demons holy water over ? me | |
| ? but I can stretch the flow me out the a os | |
| phere never knew such, I' mma walk across the atlas | |
| With a ? full of ? | |
| don' t touch the slice you should know better | |
| Back to the raw get the ? | |
| Aw, I be prayin' to God, keep my victims in hot | |
| Aw , naw , who got lose? | |
| ? Daniel' s son was a , I' m Mr. Miyake doggie bag, " ruff!" | |
| They whisper with a whimper, ' member? | |
| They remember bloody bodies on my timber, ' member? | |
| So I stockpile styles I invented in mind | |
| So if I ever die no one can ever find | |
| Hook |
| Verse 1: Problem | |
| I dig hoes, I' m a grave digger | |
| So I got hoes like NBA s | |
| Let' s have a dunk ? uncle times | |
| Got ' em all from my uncle' s line | |
| Learnt me somethin' in my uncle' s pond | |
| Everything was, seen heroin swoon into a guy' s veins | |
| His body moves then his brain turns to Charlemagne | |
| It' s a wild thing, life' s just a wild game | |
| Ball or die with ?, Crips turn to Bloods | |
| s like " bah!" man that' s so gay then find out that boy " bah!" | |
| He like no way, it was just that one time | |
| We like, " Ok, we don' t wanna know why, ain' t no need for alibi" | |
| Either way it' s all | |
| Be yourself brody, he love you | |
| Diamond Lane, we in position to bubble, fumble, we takin' it from you | |
| You heard me bruh we takin' it from you | |
| Boy we' ll son you, whoop you then love you | |
| Man you know haters in a different light | |
| Throwin' bricks and bikes at the different type | |
| Murder es get your mister sniped | |
| Turn your day black as Mr. Snipes | |
| Standin' in a dark room searchin' for a kitchen light, mutha a with the | |
| Shots to the Nazi, Germany birthplace my birthday caused earthquakes | |
| Way over there, like, waaay over there | |
| Compton like " keep that over there" | |
| Hell no this | |
| Hook 1: HaLo | |
| She won' t pop it for a profit, gettin' profit | |
| And there' s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there' s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| Verse 2: HaLo | |
| The black sound for the background comin' back around | |
| Gotta have a frown then have the head that wears the crown | |
| Underdog up stream paddle now | |
| Samuari swords on the battle ground | |
| Buds purple and brown, Khrysis to murda sound | |
| The word around now we runnin' circles ' round crews | |
| Love it when they hate to lose | |
| Use these emotions to over power you fools | |
| Why? Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| In too deep like that pool stick cue, | |
| Knuckle up until it bruise | |
| You' re in too deep, you' re defences weak | |
| Hook 2: HaLo | |
| She won' t pop it for a profit, gettin' profit | |
| And there' s no way I can stop it, no way I can stop it | |
| She got a foot in that door, booty galore | |
| And there' s no way I can knock it, no way I can knock it | |
| She let me pop it in her pocket when she drop it | |
| Oh the way she wop it, oh the way she wop it | |
| I ain' t listen before and got raw and there' s no way I can stop it | |
| No way I can stop it | |
| Verse 3: Bad Lucc | |
| Freakishly Hollywood, ? | |
| ? night, it' s all quiet ? ha ha | |
| It' s the father of the gun clap and the break beat | |
| Chicken scratch on the lay sheet | |
| Son of Jerome and Mary and legendary that ? | |
| Fightin' for the title, rival with Gods and idols | |
| Writin' ad libs in the bible | |
| One description' s like I' m ? | |
| And bamboos let me cross the land ooh | |
| Certify my emcee card is valid till I can' t move | |
| Pass me my dance shoes and you, you go run amuck | |
| Tell the people how I came | |
| Tell ' em stories how I bust | |
| Tell ' em life is full of lessons, either stick or get stuck | |
| Tell him he should be the illest, who is he, he is Lucc | |
| I stand tall, write my name on a great wall like Zorro | |
| Or Spit on Ramo, chased down by the plain clothes | |
| Ross represented and Diamond Lane the definitive | |
| Hail staff, blood bath, vindictive | |
| The last rapper potty trained, ttin' on the console | |
| I go, go so much as mumbo sauce around the condo | |
| Black out any semi ? load of pennies Remy? | |
| Got me seein' demons holy water over ? me | |
| ? but I can stretch the flow me out the a os | |
| phere never knew such, I' mma walk across the atlas | |
| With a ? full of ? | |
| don' t touch the slice you should know better | |
| Back to the raw get the ? | |
| Aw, I be prayin' to God, keep my victims in hot | |
| Aw , naw , who got lose? | |
| ? Daniel' s son was a , I' m Mr. Miyake doggie bag, " ruff!" | |
| They whisper with a whimper, ' member? | |
| They remember bloody bodies on my timber, ' member? | |
| So I stockpile styles I invented in mind | |
| So if I ever die no one can ever find | |
| Hook |
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