Can't Stop Won't Stop

Shout out MIKA, my bruh
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 For the whole mob
 I ain't never had no job
 Always been my own boss
 I don't do no dead food, I do my own wash
 I don't need no dead food
 Yeah, I do my own wash
 My life
 Can't stop, won't stop (Never)
 Free the hitters social-ed locked
 Do it for the whole mob (Free the mandem)
 Body show, dome shot (Bow)
 Sticky if it goes off
 Tryna blow your nose off
 Hella trips to make the phone pop (Brrr)
 Yayo comin' so soft
 Can't stop, won't stop
 Flyin', better blow cops
 Fuck my old opps, I get it poppin' in the clothes shop
 Every couple week I get the phone gone, road's hot
 Need to hose off
 Smoke Cali, gettin' blowjobs
 I need a whole box for my own spot
 Remember waitin' for the drone drop
 Can't stop, won't stop
 Send my youngin's to the O spot
 Studio, the phone's off (Kway)
 I gotta treat it like the coke spot
 Smokin on mimosa
 200K with no promoter (Mad)
 Clout, blow me over
 Packs flippin' over, whippin' soda (Flip it)
 Ask your older
 Licks hit with a Jack Revolver
 If I back the toaster
 Have to ghost you flippin' joker (Trippin')
 Must be sniffin' coca
 Clock's tickin' over, packs tickin' over
 Got her doin' yoga, told her hold the super soaker (Hold that)
 If I get wrapped with this wap, then it's movie over (Movie done)
 Can't stop, won't stop
 'Less they like me like the grow shop (Haha)
 'Member time when I had no gwop
 But you'll never make my soul stop
 Energies are so strong
 'Member waitin' so long
 'Times it's best to prolong
 Sittin' in my cell, hiddin' zancos in roll-ons (Mad)
 I bet I make 'em hear it like an old song (Feel it like an old song)
 Can't rest, can't rest, won't rest
 Believin' in the process
 Every day's a progress
 Slow steps, I need my own clothes next (Trust)
 I really need a grown check
 Funny nigga gassed off a Rolex
 Stackin' for a home? You need to go bed
 My young hitter gettin' active off a moped (Gang)
 They ain't new to cash
 My young niggas movin' mad
 Pop you for a Louis bag (Murder)
 All he ever wanted was some Gucci rags (Mad)
 Puttin' moves to plan
 Put in two .45s before we move to traps
 Now everybody shootin' straps (Pow)
 Well, where the shootings at? (Where they at?)
 Don't get too attached
 Roads'll have you doin' laps (Laps)
 Gettin' dots 'til I drop
 Turned me so rotten
 I can feel my soul rottin'
 Grew around fiends with no teeth but I'm dough gettin' (Money, man)
 Bally on me, ho gettin', dough makin'
 Probably snake your own brethren for some road-readys
 So hellish, so reckless
 Hit the studio with no effort, kill the whole session
 Light work