Holiday

Yeah
 L-O-X, nigga
 It don't stop
 It keep goin' and goin' and goin' and goin'
 Motherfucker
 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 your 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? I 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 truths
 Do anything it takes just to get to this loot
 Ain't 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, ain't no controllin' the wrist
 And niggas leave the room when the hear the P flowin' to Swizz
 I'm a 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 (Uh-huh)
 Holiday (I gotta make it to Heaven for goin' through Hell)
 Holiday (And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I sell)
 Holiday (I use my left hand when I'm loadin' the shells)
 Holiday ('Cause I know it ain't right, that's why I'm blowin' a L), yo
 I do it all for my niggas, even ride with a bomb
 Get shot, die in his arm and give him my last
 It's a million dollar bail, I'ma get him the cash
 I sell crack like it's '88, I live in the past
 You know the P carry the gun, live in the mask
 Tell niggas "show me the money" and "gimme the stash"
 I like Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash
 Hundred's 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 weapons are 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 ain't part of the plans
 I keep weight on the scale 'cause 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'm the ghost
 Blow up your face, blow up the coke and blow up the smoke (Uh-huh)
 Holiday (I gotta make it to Heaven for goin' through Hell)
 Holiday (And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I sell)
 Holiday (I use my left hand when I'm loadin' the shells)
 Holiday ('Cause I know it ain't right, that's why I'm blowin' a L), uh-huh
 Holiday (I gotta make it to Heaven for goin' through Hell)
 Holiday (And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I sell)
 Holiday (I use my left hand when I'm loadin' the shells)
 Holiday ('Cause I know it ain't right, that's why I'm blowin' a L)