paroles de chanson Don’t Stop - Hilltop Hoods

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 skills like sex saps your endurance
Fuck hip-hop it's still Hoods are passing 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
And 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 battle gear, yeah, we here
B-boys flock to me like I was free weed and free beer

"Don't stop" "Do-don't stop"
"Don't stop" "Do-don't stop"
"Don't stop" "Do-don't stop"
"Don't stop" "Do-don't stop"