Yeah
L O X n
It don't stop
It keep going, and going, and going, and going
Motherfers

[Styles Paniro]
You heard it from the P, you ought to know it's the truth
I get you kidnapped and mustard seed and thrown off a roof
You could nod your head to this like it's only a rap
Cuz when these bullets hit your donkey I'm like it's only an archaic form of got
I need a funeral to feel good, I'm hopin it's yours
Think you edible, heard he got shot in the cross
Holiday Styles, female dog I broke most of the laws
F 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 s
When I squeeze no controlling the wrist
And n's leave the room when they hear the P blowin his whistle
I'm an ignorant and negative n
I sell jacks, water guns, pop soda, and say I'm better than n's
You think not, I'll look at your man and level a n
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 to call
Five eight and three quarters, but I'm bigger than you
If I left the gun home, I'll give you the sword
I'm the devil in the flesh, I can't give you the Lord
It doesn't make no sense for you to pray for your life
I got my n's in the crib, you ought to pray for your wife

[CHORUS: Jadakiss and Styles]
[Jadakiss:] Uh huh, HOLIDAY
[Styles:] I gotta make it to heaven for going through hell
[J:] HOLIDAY
[S:] And I don't care if I sell, you 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 isn't right, that's why I'm blowin a L

[Styles Paniro]
Yo, I do it all for my n's, even rob with a bom
Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my last
It's a million dollar bail, I'll get it in cash
I sell Jack like it's '88, I live in the past
You know the P carry the gum, live in the mask
Tell n's 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
Getting jewels from the old timers, stashing the cards
But jail isn't part of the plans
I keep weight on the scale because I feel I get further with grams
In my last few bars, I run through n's like my last few cars
And crash 'em up, the boy might have 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 commas and wakes, I don't make mistakes
Double R now female dog you ought to know I'm a ghost
Blow up your face, blow up the coca cola, and blow up the smoke

[CHORUS]