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
  Cuz 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 you delicious, heard he got shot in the cross
  Holiday Styles, bitch I broke most of the laws
  Fuck with the poor, so flip to the boots, stick to the truth
  Do anything it takes just to give it a slue
  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 the hear the P blowin his whis
  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 rob 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 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]