Various Artists - Won't Stop lyrics

[Verse One] Models and dimes, ugly hoes follow inside Proud of my dick and mad chicks swallow my pride Getting head jobs from strippers Twisted off the eggnog and liquor, a big dog like Clifford Melt gimmicks every time I spit With rhymes like crowds in health clinics cause every line is sick I squeeze clips at each clique To see how they deal with heat when I put them under arms like speed stick Please b**h, with metal to your frame I rep the C. O. nonstop, it's the first two letters of my name Competitors are slain by this intelligent gunner Quick to pop the trunk like an elephant hunter And you might be upset, your dad and I got something in common Your mom kissing both our babies right before bed And like me or not, b**h I'm 'bout to light me a spliff So any sh** you got to spit I'll more than likely forget [Verse Two] I talk a lot of sh** cause I know a lot of sh** Your b**h comes to my show to swallow a lot of dick So which idiot should I sh** on? The one that spit on the mic or his friend who convinced him to get on? You spit your best sh** on everybody's mix tape Now for your album you're left with sh** you wrote in sixth grade That's why I don't rhyme on mix tapes I mix hate and science and spit straight sick sh** your b**h hates On Tower I admit rape And it was well worth the gas and the switchblade it took to get laid Plus your girl looks like a great f** But that's only from the face down and the waist up And I got eight s*uts, one for each day I wake up Plus an extra for the morning I die laying face up I'll pull you out your truck, get slammed up the dash For rhyming like you got Jim Henson's fist crammed up your a** Pull out the thirty-eight, hold it to the crowd And leave every critic's body that dissed me "Holier Than Thou" Extinguish the hottest emcee's match When I cuff the mic at twelve decibels I still get positive feedback [Verse Three] Saw your one blunt and that dirty ain't worth the buy Raw and uncut like Eddie Murphy uncircumcised When Copywrite's on tour stop and hide your who*e Certified thief, alarms go off when I walk inside the store O. H. ten, been repping the state From the second I stepped on the stage till I'm dead in a grave And got a buzz but my head isn't shaved "Get the leaves and doja", sick of being sober and my medicine's haze Veteran praise... and I don't write for the wealth I'll stage my own d**h, come back and ghost write for myself Your dis backs weren't able to help Me and RJ's like slip mats, ??? ????? turntables were felt Now pray for yourselves, still opponents lost a spar again I can't be faded like a homeless Rastafarian Before I rock the booth I need lots of loot Got it coming together like Siamese prostitutes