DMX - Holiday

Текст песни DMX - Holiday


L o x nigga

It dont stop

It keep goin, and goin, and goin, and goin


[styles paniro]

You heard it from the p, you oughta know its the truth

I get you kidnapped and raped and thrown off a roof

You could nod your head to this like its only a rap

Cuz when these bullets hit your ass Im like its only a gat

I need a funeral to feel good, Im hopin its 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

Im an ignorant and negative nigga

I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say Im better than niggas

You think not, Ill look at your man and level a nigga

If you think a rappers better why dont 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, Im the nigga to call

Five eight and three quarters, but Im bigger than yall

If I left the gun home, ima give you the sword

Im the devil in the flesh, I cant give you the lord

It dont 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 dont care if I sell, yall know what I sell

[j:] holiday

[s:] I use my left hand when Im loadin the shells

[j:] holiday

[s:] cuz I know it aint right, thats why Im 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

Its a million dollar bail, ima get it in cash

I sell crack like its 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, fiftys of hash

Hundreds of dro, wear my clothes a week in a row

Sleep on the floor, catch me right next to the dog

Im holiday styles, and thats what the weaponry for

And I probably wont blow for the fact that Im hard

But Im 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 dont gas him up

I get his length and his width and get his casket cut

I dont deal with the snakes and fakes

But I deal with the comas and wakes, I dont make mistakes

Double r now bitch you oughta know ima ghost

Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke


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DMX - Holiday?

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