Letra de Don't Stop!

[Verse 1: Pharrell Williams]
Uh, what
Explain yourself, how you sound like me?
The motherfucking Skateboard P
Knowing that you're Milo, playing games like Cee-Lo
In a tight situation like speedos
You can have it your way like Carlito
My niggas would be happy to give y'all torpedoes
And have your car twisted like a blunt
For you faggot-ass niggas that like to front
I’m on some BBC Bape shit, I'm on some cake shit
In the kitchen with the heat, making beats in my apron
You hating and you want to erase it
Close your eyes when you know you can’t take it
My flow interrupts your homeostasis
I Rolls-Royce it on a regular basis
You talk street shit, it sound like sweet shit
Straight licorice, you niggas sound ticklish
80K large for the Hermès dream
Purple croc in all your magazines
Hunger strike yourself, look like Celine, Dion
Me and my niggas like Freon
Your bitch is on my pecan, she got an ass you can eat on
Try to play tough like the leather on a Vuitton
I hit it 'til I could seat on, tryna get her freak on
Ask me to R. Kelly ya and get peed on
I said, "That ain't me, ma'am"
That eight behind me still got the burner
Yes, the enzo is still black like Sojourner
Truth, I might have just loosened a tooth
Spitting what I did in the booth, I’m out, poof

[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco]
Carrera, raised in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle era
Water-bearer tell the truth, I dare ya
Ya lie, so eat this whole bottle of these jalapeño peppers
For terror made in America, too live
Fuck the property or give me my props properly
High off life, this high technology, DeVry
I rep Muhammad Ali more like rap-ology
My policy’s not to be dishonestly, deprived
So gimme that, gimme that, keep God where my city at
I’m like steak and fries but never died
They wanna Ghostface, wanna be me
But they will post-haste follow me into the afterlife
That means you going right after I’ve
But I’m the hero, sort of like Jack Sparrow
So some way, somehow, I have survived
Ha, ha, surprised?
Who is he that we see coming over the tides?
In a speed boat, boatload of pride
Fall of Rome, dress-shirted and mastermind tie
He what happens when rapping and avant garde fashion collides
OMG, it's the 'C' from the CRS
LOL-ing at you haters, tell your BFFs like

[Verse 3: Kanye West]
Yes, Mr. West, turn that new Child Rebel
Loud as a badass child level
Who need a chorus? We do it Tyrannosaurus
Tyrone, it’s been a year with no phone
Could you explain how high is your zone?
We’ll take the plane, rub his nose in cocaine
There’s hoes in magazines you layin' saying you're lame
And for the hate in advance, pull down your pants
Make ‘em kiss both cheeks like we living in France
Diamonds blue, his business manager’s Jewish
And if I get sued, my lawyers Jews
Some girls do grab the cojones
Say, "You got enough diamonds to at least Sierra loan us"
Brand new Ferraris, I gotta make the donuts
CRS is like a hip-hop Chris's bonus
Niggas is hating on the internet, I couldn’t tell
I was too busy rapping, G.O.O.D. as hell
I was too busy flying, parasail
To Colette to get the new shit that Paris sell
Tarantino, Da Vinci, getting Benjies
Get half-off of Fendi, half of that’s to Cindy's
Hopped out the spaceship, put my Mork in Mindy
Popped too many corks to let you dorks offend me
Props in New York but Chi-Town’s the city
Get my groupie hoochies Gucci, Monica Belluccis
Are those the real millionnaires or the bendies?
I’m so ultra, I’m even over Oprah
But let me check your account, haha, no sir