lirik lagu ruff ryders - holiday (feat. styles)
[intro – styles]
yeah
l o x n-gga
it don’t stop
it keep goin, and goin, and goin, and goin
motherf–kers
[verse 1 – styles]
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 -ss 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-tch 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 n-ggas leave the room when the hear the p flowin with swiss
i’m an ignorant and negative n-gga
i sell crack, bust guns, pop sh-t, and say i’m better than n-ggas
you think not, i’ll look at your man and level a n-gga
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 n-gga 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 n-ggas in the crib, you oughta pray for your wife
[chorus – styles] (jadakiss)
(uh huh, holiday)
i gotta make it to heaven for goin through h-ll
(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 sh-lls
(holiday)
s: ’cause i know it ain’t right, that’s why i’m blowin a l
[verse 2 – styles]
yo, i do it all for my n-ggas, 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 n-ggas 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 n-ggas 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-tch you oughta know i’ma ghost
blow up your face, blow up the c0ke, and blow up the smoke
[chorus]
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