|
Yeah
|
L-O-X nigga
|
It don't stop
|
It keep goin, and goin, and goin, and goin
|
Motherfuckers
|
|
[Styles Paniro]
|
You heard it from the P, you oughta know it's the truth
|
I get you kidnapped and raped and thrown off a roof
|
You could nod your head to this like it's only a rap
|
cause when these bullets hit yo' ass I'm like it's only a gat
|
I need a funeral to feel good, I'm hopin it's yours
|
Think he religious? Heard he got shot in the cross
|
Holiday Styles, bitch I broke most of the laws
|
Fuck with the Porsche or flip to the boots, stick to the truth
|
Do anything it takes just to get me this loot
|
And missin a tooth, but both of 'em chipped, toaster is gripped
|
You heard about the trouble, I start most of the shit
|
When I squeeze aint no controllin the wrist
|
And niggas leave the room when they hear the P flowin to Swizz
|
I'm an ignorant and negative nigga
|
I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I'm better than niggas
|
You think not, I'll look at your man and level a nigga
|
If you think a rapper's better why don't you give me his name
|
So I can run up on him, tear him up and give you his frame
|
When it comes to the streets, I'm the nigga to call
|
Five eight and three quarters, but I'm bigger than y'all
|
If I left the gun home, I'ma give you the sword
|
I'm the devil in the flesh, I can't give you the Lord
|
It don't make no sense for you to pray for your life
|
I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta pray for your wife
|
|
CHORUS: Jadakiss and Styles
|
Jadakiss: Uh huh, HOLIDAY
|
Styles: I gotta make it to heaven for goin through hell
|
J: HOLIDAY
|
S: And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I sell
|
J: HOLIDAY
|
S: I use my left hand when I'm loadin the shells
|
J: HOLIDAY
|
S: Cuz I know it aint right, that's why I'm blowin a L
|
|
[Styles Paniro]
|
Yo..
|
I do it all for my niggas, even ride wit a bomb
|
Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my last
|
It's a million dollar bail, I'ma get it in cash
|
I sell crack like it's '88, I live in the past
|
You know the P carry the gun, live in the Maz'
|
Tell niggas show me the money and gimme the stash
|
I like Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash
|
Hundreds of 'dro, wear my clothes a week in a row
|
Sleep on the floor, catch me right next to the dog
|
I'm Holiday Styles, and that's what the weaponry for
|
And I probably won't blow for the fact that I'm hard
|
But I'm good with ten million in the back of the car
|
Either that or get life and lift the rack in the yard
|
Gettin jewels from the old timers, stashin the cards
|
But jail aint part of the plans
|
I keep weight on the scale cuz I feel I get further with grams
|
In my last few bars, I run through niggas like my last few cars
|
And crash 'em up, the boy mighta went platinum but don't gas him up
|
I get his length and his width and get his casket cut
|
I don't deal with the snakes and fakes
|
But I deal with the comas and wakes, I don't make mistakes
|
Double R now bitch you oughta know I'ma ghost
|
Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke
|
|
CHORUS
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Holiday
|
| Styles |
