Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Who Gon Stop Me, artista - Jay-Z. Data di rilascio: 31.12.2010
Limiti di età: 18+
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
Who Gon Stop Me |
| I can’t stop-op-op-op |
| I can’t stop |
| This is something like the Holocaust |
| Millions of our people lost |
| Bow our heads and pray to the Lord |
| 'Til I die, I’ma fucking ball |
| Now who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Black cards, black cars, black on black, black broads |
| Whole lotta money in a black bag |
| Black strap: you know what that’s for |
| Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Yeah, who gon' stop me? |
| No brakes, I need State Farm |
| So many watches, I need eight arms |
| One neck but got eight charms |
| Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Niggas talking, they bitch-made, ixnay off my dicksnay |
| That’s Pig Latin, itch-bay; who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Last night ain’t go so well, got kicked up out the hotel |
| Got a little freaky like Marvin Albert, «Yes!» Tell Howard Cosell |
| You just a commentator if you getting paper |
| Everybody I know from the hood got common haters |
| In some relations, you just supposed to say none |
| Heard she fucked the doorman |
| Well, that’s cool, I fucked the waitress |
| Heard Yeezy was racist, well, I guess that’s on one basis |
| I only like green faces |
| This is something like the Holocaust |
| Millions of our people lost |
| Bow our heads and pray to the Lord |
| 'Til I die, I’ma fucking ball |
| Now who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Black cards, black cars, black on black, black broads |
| Whole lotta money in a black bag |
| Black strap: you know what that’s for |
| Y’all weed purple, my money purple |
| Y’all Steve Urkel, I’m Oprah’s circle (Yeah, yeah, let’s go) |
| I wrote the verse that I hope will hurt you |
| Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Beat the odds, beat the Feds |
| It wouldn’t be wise to bet against the kid |
| Start me broke, I bet I get rich |
| Night shift: six to six |
| Give me one shot, one pot |
| I’ll show up in all white, wearin' no socks |
| No ceiling, new coupe |
| They know I’m a dope boy, they don’t have no proof |
| I’m three steps removed, I know how to move |
| It’s looking like I don’t know how to lose |
| I’m winning again, I’m at the Wynn |
| I’m at the table, I’m gamblin' |
| Lucky lefty, I expect a seven |
| I went through hell, I’m expectin' heaven |
| I’m owed, 'cause I’m dough, and I stuck to the G-code |
| I’m here, oh yeah, I promise I ain’t going nowhere |
| Okay, here, like a hare, like a rabbit, I like karats |
| I’m allergic to havin' bunny ears, like broke, like nope |
| Like ha, I ain’t no joke |
| I can’t be stopped, like nope, like nope |
| Extend the beat, Noah (…and pray to the Lord), uh |
| Two seats in the 911, uh |
| No limit on the Black Card, uh |
| Told y’all I was gonna go H·A·M, uh |
| 'Til the ocean was my backyard, uh |
| No lies in my verses, hey |
| Please pardon all the curses, hey |
| Shit gotta come in some way, fuck |
| When you’re growing up worthless, uh |
| Middle finger to my old life, uh |
| Special shoutout to my old head, uh |
| If it wasn’t for your advice, uh |
| A nigga would have been so dead, uh |
| I’m living life til these niggas kill me |
| Turn this up if you niggas feel me |
| I’m riding dirty, tryna get filthy |
| Pablo Picasso, Rothkos, Rilkes |
| Graduated to the MoMA |
| And I did all of this without a diploma |
| Graduated from the corner |
| Y’all can play me for a muthafuckin' fool if you wanna |
| Street-smart and I’m book-smart |
| Coulda been a chemist 'cause I cook smart |
| Only thing that can stop me is me, hey |
| And I’ma stop when the hook start, hol' up |
| This is something like the Holocaust |
| Millions of our people lost |
| Bow our heads and pray to the Lord |
| 'Til I die, I’ma fucking ball |
| Now who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Who gon' stop me? Who gon' stop me, huh? |
| Black cards, black cars, black on black, black broads |
| Whole lotta money in a black bag |
| Black strap: you know what that’s for |