paroles de chanson It Don't Stop - South Central Cartel
[ VERSE
1:
Prode'je
]
The
C-a-r-t-e-l's
been
here
for
ages
And
ain't
not
one
of
them
trick-ass
radio
stations
played
us
But
that
didn't
fade
us
because
we
still
gettin
it
on
I
put
the
heat
up
under
my
seat
and
I'm
gone
Bumpin
the
tape
as
I
let
the
sun
hit
my
Daytons
Fuck
your
ratings
cause
this
gangsta
shit
make
ends
I
begins
hittin
them
corners
on
the
block
Servin
the
B.G.'s
the
double
up
on
the
rock
I
shake
the
spot
because
my
face
comes
with
fame
And
it's
a
shame
the
way
them
rats
scream
my
name
And
I'm
fashionable,
I'm
hittin
corners
international
14
(?)
I'm
on
my
phone
to
see
if
Rhime
Son's
at
home
(I'm
in
the
back
polishin
my
chrome)
I
be
there
in
a
minute
so
we
can
hit
the
zones
To
let
the
U.S.C.
know
it's
still
on,
it's
on
[ CHORUS:
L.V.
]
Gees
still
on
the
move
Westside
and
Eastside
finna
act
a
fool
You
know
it's
all
to
the
gees
Hittin
switches
with
the
S.C.C.
Radio
don't
give
us
props
It
don't
stop
till
the
gangsta
drop
So
we
gotta
do
it
for
the
streets
And
all
the
gees
bumpin
gangsta
beats
[ VERSE
2:
Havikk
the
Rhime
Son
]
85
Cutlass
on
the
creep
from
block
to
block
on
(?)
deep
dish
Killin
the
radio,
I'm
turnin
it
off,
I'm
bumpin
that
Bushwick
I
gets
my
skate
on,
I'm
flossin
through
the
neighborhood
It's
Mr.
Rhime
Son
to
the
good
[] as
I
swerve
to
the
curb
in
the
seat
Gone
off
that
herb
and
the
word
is
I'm
a
gee
As
we
(?)
another
block
I
lets
the
trunk
vibrate
18's
droppin
them
bombs
like
Kuwait
I
put
it
on
the
Richter
as
the
9.2,
puttin
the
heater
in
my
lap
Craps
- yo,
what
they
hittin
fo'?
Snap
Daps
is
what
I
give
to
Big
Prod
Cartel
Gang
is
finna
hoo-bang
when
we
ride
Check
the
rear-view
cause
you
know
bustas,
them
muthafuckas
Are
sneaky
as
hell
might
as
well
Dip
with
the
clip
tucked,
snug
for
the
funk
B-l-u-n-t,
let
the
system
thump
And
it's
like
that
[ CHORUS
]
[ VERSE
3:
Havikk
]
How
many
of
you
busters...
Are
thinkin
about
servin
us?
Proceed
with
caution
Pin
him
in
a
turnin
lane
before
he
bend
Slauson
The
85
Cutlass
cuffed
on
d's,
at
ease...
Up
off
my
nut
sacks,
like
I
said
ain't
no
get
back
Trump
tight
as
we
slide
on
In
a
Cut
and
Young
Prod,
time
to
get
your
ride
on
(Locsters)
Cartel
ridin
Rolls
in
the
'96,
unfadable
Cause
we
don't
need
no
damn
radio
[ Prode'je
]
Prod
and
Rhime
Son
on
triple
gold
d's
Checkin
out
the
frequencies
In
a
hour
they
ain't
played
the
S.C.C.
But
I'm
a
gee
regardless
how
many
marks
gon'
ride
On
the
S.C.G.'s
from
the
Evil
Side,
Big
Prod
(And
I,
Mr.
Rhime
Son
comin
with
the
nine
gun)
In
the
cut
slugs
get
bucked,
so
what
the
fuck
Is
really
goin
down,
it
ain't
no
changing
faces
The
man
in
the
mirror
is
a
gangster
Fo'
life
[ CHORUS
]
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