Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Can’t Stop [*]’ by 8Ball. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 8Ball or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Space, Age-in baby
Right right right right
One time
Beyotch
Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can’t retire!
From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight
I don’t stop rappin’ like my first tapes
When I was broke, I used to sell em instantly (instantly)
One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (pimp in me)
In eighty-nine, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E)
A bunch of fine bitches tryin’ to sleep with me
Every night, sold out, turnin’ young hoes
Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo’ mouth
I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes
Always fucked up in niggaz bitches all the time
Now I’m ridin’ on twenties wearin’ nice clothes
but ain’t nuttin’ like pimpin’ hoes, and ridin’ Vogues
I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness
I’m so glad, to get to the point of havin’ this
opportunity, for you and me to pass it on
Two years ago, I thought it’d be my last song
Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin’ white boys, bumpin’ dopefiend beats
Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn’t straight, but I was makin’ it
Niggaz like Lil’ Tim was out there ballin’ sellin’ cakes n shit
I was right there, on the Mob Circle, writin’ raps
All about my snaps, tryin’ to put Ball and G on the map
Nowadays I own my shit and bone bad bitches
Kickin’ it with rich niggaz in rollers, and candy sixes
Deliverin’ hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs
Niggaz who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs
Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic main
$hort Dawg, I don’t know why you tryin’ to leave this game
State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make
Writing raps, makin’ more than them niggaz movin’ weight
The game been good to me, and I know that muhfucka bless you
Thanks for passin’ game, now let’s get out here and make this loot
I won’t stop rappin’, I don’t stop rappin’
I got too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin’
We some presidential players, with money by the layers
Ain’t nuthin’ you broke ass niggaz do that can fade us
I won’t stop rappin’, I don’t stop rappin’
I got too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin’
I drive fast cars, eat lunch by lakes
and meet a hundred different bitches when I drop new tapes
I had to sacrifice, get things right
In this rap life, I paid my dues
Learn how to crawl, before I walk
Then I learned how to tie my shoes
Tryin’ crime, but it just didn’t work for me
Matter of fact it did it worse for me
Gettin’ eyes scarred, bein’ weak one time ya hard
It can only do hurt to me
So I sucked up my peer pressure, and my pride
And realized that this rap shit was gon’ help me to survive
Stay alive, go with the flow but don’t be no muhfuckin’ fool
Hell this music thing is all I got, I ain’t makin’ straight A’s in school
And ain’t wind up to be dumber nigga, only to be different
So all the shit that you think we are, the shit that we isn’t
When you raised up, where I come from, make it out is a blessing
Cause half the cats, where I come from, don’t ever learn they lessons
My first love, even before I had a daughter, or a lady
was rappin’, sweet lyrics, I love you, my baby
MJG, what you see, on TV, is fame
But the rapper I let loose almost anything, I love this game
I won’t stop rappin’, I don’t stop rappin’
I make too much money bitch I can’t stop rappin’
I live the fast life of a MC
and I sell a lot of records makin’ pimp beats
I could do a show tonight and make ten G’s
F*ck til the mornin’, sleep late and smoke weed
Three cars in my garage, truck in the driveway
I always, get my dick sucked on the highway
My way (pimp til I die) f*ck a hoe
Unless that hoe is breakin’ me off some dough, to hit the studio
Blowin, niggaz ain’t knowin’, how far this shit is goin’
I wrote all my shit, but niggaz always talkin’ bout what I owe them
But I’m gon’ show them, real niggaz stand on they own ten toes
So I’ma make all the money, and try my best to f*ck all these hoes
Friend or foe, a bitch or hoe, rich or po’
Eightball got flow, MJG
Here comes the one they call the P-I, M-P, never will retire
The tree-high, green leaf, helps me to get higher
Eightball and MJG, Too $hort, we all must be
the pimps of the industry, shit people pretend to be
F*ck so why should we, settle down
Leave the kitchen put the kettles down
Stop from fillin’ all you hoes
Give up the life of trues and vogues
Hell no, it ain’t gon’ happen, this shit too deep
So I hooked up with my comrades so we can all get rich, nigga
Yea yea, one time, for your motherfuckin’ mind
Pimp shit bitch
Eightball and MJG, now what you weigh me
$hort Dawg in the house, slammin’ Cadillac do’s, pimpin’ hoes
It’s that old school pimpin’ all the way from Memphis, to Oakland
Straight smokin’ baby, fryin’ em up fat
Atlanta to Houston, we still doin’ it like this
Yea, New York to L.A.
Beyitch
Hah, that’s right, Space Age forever, nigga
T-Mix on the funk
Dangerous Music, uh
Suave House
I love that