Chris Curran - Ya Don't Stop lyrics

[Hook] You don't stop, you keep on! [Verse 1: JuJu] It's the Junkyard n***a, kid, you know what I'm about Puffing on a fat one, guzzling a Guinness Stout Boning b**hes on a regular My game is lethal, that's my word, I'm telling ya Living foul like a motherf**er That's the way it's been ever since I was a shorty, s**er So don't even try to flex I'll put a round in your chest and leave you in a f**ing mess n***as know my style, they be playing If I have to catch a body I will, know what I'm saying? n***as from Corona don't be having it You put your face in my grill I'll be stabbing it You f** around and catch a bad one I'll k** you like a six-pack and put you in a bag, son And I still ain't fronting Fully loaded Tec, chump, ready to go hunting [Hook] [Verse 2: Psycho Les] I come equipped with sh** that's f**ing wicked Damn, n***as can't f** with the program I take a stand and look down the clip Take a swig and spark up the spliff (boom!) n***as know the time with the Beatnuts funk John Wayne got smoked when I popped the trunk Punk, I told you once and I won't tell you twice I smoke the blunts and we won't pay the price For p**y or any f**ing ma** But the raw dog style in your girl's a** (Ho, ooh!) I think I just came Stud's break didn't work, I guess it's all in your brain sh** smells like demon spirit Learn from Exorcist, punk, you can't come near it So fear it or you'll go out like the priest Don't you know, man I'm the wicked n***a from the East Coast [Hook] [Verse 3: Fashion] Ooh child, motherf**ers down with the licks Oh sh**, I'm hitting n***as sick with my tricks So throw up styles that blow up whiles I go On with the flow, better act like you know But I won't take no prisoners, got sh** for his-n-hers f**s up you all when the nuts have a ball Cause we don't play, blast brains with the smoker Get f**ed up when we toke with the joker And, never let me see you crying Heads start to flying, it's time for the dying And I'mma get real deep, fall into a sleep Knock a freak in my sheets, man, f** counting sheep And come on, step on up and meet my Tec Either fill you full of wholes, or wring your f**ing neck Cause I'mma let off and blast a shot in your eye Make way motherf**s, it's the real superfly