Neville Clark - Don't Stop lyrics

[Verse 1: Suffa] I make girls say "Rock me," b-boys say "Not me" I give props to any MC that try to stop me I look at 'em, throw my rhyme book at 'em, see which rap he feel And make him hate himself like bulimics eating Happy Meals I'll sap your sk**s like s** saps your endurance f** hip-hop [?] still Hoods are pa**ing judgement like we're jurors Who is? Me and Fats, 'cause we hate clones I'm gonna take your living skin like DJ Bonez Mum, this kid is the one to make you clap like chlamydia Props to true friends: Baz, Flak, and Olivia Consider the certified the kings of the city, the Wise rock live from here to Bolivia Italy to Sicily, Tripoli to Gallipoli I'm flipping the mic, ain't nobody ripping me So clap your hands to the beatbox This rapper's standing in his Reeboks Yo, we rock cities like Grateful Dead rocking old folks Yeah, come sweat me on the reg like I was trapped and I sold dope [?] now either or, we the raw Open your eyes, I'll show you things you never seen before When we on tour we live on cigarettes and good banter My mates live on junk food and marijuana My armour's my b-boy battleguard, yeah, we here B-boys flock to me like I was free weed and free beer [Scratches: DJ Debris] [Chorus: Pressure] And if you don't stop Then the Hoods won't stop And the Hoods won't stop If the loop don't stop And if you don't stop Then the Hoods won't stop And the Hoods won't stop If the beat don't stop [Pre-Verse Ad-Libs: Suffa] Here we go. It's the almighty Pressure MC in the house. Alright, bring it to 'em. Take 'em to school. Don't stop. [Verse 2: Pressure] Ain't it funny how the world seems to run on a profit That's why rappers check for me like their wallets, I'm deeper than a klepto's pockets So when rock it, you don't wanna battle, boy, get off it FM stations got no plugs for me, I simply pull 'em out your sockets Debris, drop it, this beat is hella Now we the fellas dropping the third [?] I believe I never seen my better Still MCs try and push me around, 'cause I'm the only peer [?] MCs are never [?] change out my style Like ugly women swap the dice if that's what she like [?] these long days make for longer nights While I come correct, you're still confused about wrong and right I'm on a tight schedule to murder a face 'Cause I hate 'em like people up in my personal space Not even thermals will make your sh** hot, rehearsal's a waste You ain't got it, you ain't got it, it ain't personal, mate I'm kinda happy being me, you ain't happy with yourself f**, there's Markey in a nappy tryna take samples for free Now even crack fiends agree we got the rock that you feel, I Bring the ba** to your dome [?] serving crack dealers I'm tiring of old, uninspiring and sold-outs Designed for the mould, so keep your lips sealed, silence is gold [?] I walk the hills amongst giants of old Revoke your license to ill while your album [?] sold [Scratches: DJ Debris] [Chorus: Pressure] And if you don't stop Then the Hoods won't stop And the Hoods won't stop If the loop don't stop And if you don't stop Then the Hoods won't stop And the Hoods won't stop If the beat don't stop