Holiday (Album Version|Explicit) - Ruff Ryders/Styles

Yeah

L O X ni**a

It don't stop

It keep goin and goin and goin and goin

Motherf**kers

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 a**

I'm like it's only a gat

I need a funeral to feel god

I'm hopin it's yours

Think you religious

Heard he got shot in the cross

Holiday Styles

B**ch I broke most of the laws

F**k with the poor so flip to the boots

Stick to the truth

Do anything it takes just to get to this loot

And missin a tooth but both of 'em chipped

Told you the script

You heard about the trouble

I start most of the sh*t

When I squeeze ain't no controllin the wrist

And niggas leave the room when

The hear the P flowin with swiss

I'm an ignorant and negative ni**a

I sell crack bust guns pop sh*t

And say I'm better than niggas

You think not I'll look

At your man and level a ni**a

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 ni**a 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 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 mask

Tell niggas show me the money

And gimme the stash

I like malibu and pineapple

Fifty's of hash

Hundred's of dro

Wear my clothes a week in a row

Sleep on the floor

Catch me right next to the door

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 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 b**ch you

Oughta know I'ma ghost

Blow up your face blow up the coke

And blow up the smoke

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

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