or
Styles P

Yeah, Holiday, Gary
I don't want why'all to compare me to niggas no more
Unless they got a case pending
Unless they poke somethin' up
Unless they keepin' it real gutter, why'know

SP I'm the closest thing to poison it is
You think you hot, I'ma boil your kid
You think you cool, I'ma throw you in the river wit some cement shoes
You could sleep with the fishes
Niggas actin' funny so I gotta keep it movin' I don't speak to the bitches
We could handle this like gangstas
Dog, I'll kidnap your little man and send you to the banker
That money get dropped off, so do he
Right off the booth of his mama' building
Feel the drama building
Told why'all niggas don't fuck wit P
I said fuck rap and a verse
I get down like the bishops, wit the way you clap at the hearse
I get it crunk wit a blunt and a package of verc
I'm in the shottie of the Cadillac
Wit niggas that'll take twenty a body, the shottie will handle that

[Chorus:]
Styles
Paniro the most, you hearin' the Ghost
Styles
Holiday shit, it's robbery shit
Nigga talkin' funny then body the kid, let's go
Styles
Mafia boss, rockin' the corpse
Styles
Pullin the three, cockin the four
Styles
We're closin' the windows and lockin' the doors
You could die today
Or you could die tomorrow, baby boy the option is yours, see'mon

I smoke weed 'cause the future is grim
I'm knockin' this ash off the dutch on the roof of your Benz
My lil man been runnin' since the shootin' begin
Why'all niggas talk about cases of Crist'
I talk about cases where niggas get life of the shit
And your girl visit two years, mom come forever
But near one of your mans ain't right wit his shit
But like corn I'ma flip, smokin' weed influenced by the fix
And old timers with the toolies by the hips
So come and creep wit me
And I ain't lyin' when I tell these motherfuckers
That I got the streets in me
One felony, wit two cases beat
So be about your business when you come and beef wit me
I got coke for sale and I got dope for sale
If you want to cop some work you oughta come and speak wit me

[Chorus:]

Why'all niggas know my name, but you don't know my style
What make it all ironic is the shit is the same
Keep a milli in the coat, puffin on the chronic
In the hood wit my niggas that's distributin' 'caine
If your man get bodied, number one rule is you body somethin' back
Then live with the pain
Young guns of this shit, so when I get hit
I'ma yell Sheek and 'Kiss let's finish the game
I got discipline and dedication
I'm the boss of the S N F, that's the Shootin Niggas Federation
Light a blunt and get cloudy wit me
Go get your gun and get rowdy wit me
It's a Holiday dog, mouth big, you could swallow the four
Don't you ask me what I'm robbing you for, what
'Cause you was talkin' big money
And I'm a little broke and I'm a firm believer in equality dog, what

[Chorus: Repeat 2X]

Written by Fields, Anthony / Styles, David
Published by Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.