| Yeah
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| L o x nigga
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| It dont stop
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| It keep goin, and goin, and goin, and goin
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| Motherfuckers
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| You heard it from the p, you oughta know its the truth
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| I get you kidnapped and raped and thrown off a roof
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| You could nod your head to this like its only a rap
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| Cuz when these bullets hit your ass Im like its only a gat
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| I need a funeral to feel good, Im hopin its yours
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| Think you delicious, heard he got shot in the cross
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| Holiday styles, bitch I broke most of the laws
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| Fuck with the poor, so flip to the boots, stick to the truth
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| Do anything it takes just to give it a slue
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| And missin a tooth, but both of em chipped, toaster is gripped
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| You heard about the trouble, I start most of the shit
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| When I squeeze aint no controllin the wrist
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| And niggas leave the room when the hear the p blowin his whis
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| Im an ignorant and negative nigga
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| I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say Im better than niggas
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| You think not, Ill look at your man and level a nigga
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| If you think a rappers better why dont you give me his name
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| So I can run up on him, tear him up and give you his frame
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| When it comes to the streets, Im the nigga to call
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| Five eight and three quarters, but Im bigger than yall
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| If I left the gun home, ima give you the sword
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| Im the devil in the flesh, I cant give you the lord
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| It dont make no sense for you to pray for your life
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| I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta pray for your wife
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| uh huh, holiday
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| I gotta make it to heaven for goin through hell
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| holiday
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| and I dont care if I sell, yall know what I sell
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| holiday
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| I use my left hand when Im loadin the shells
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| holiday
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| cuz I know it aint right, thats why Im blowin a l Yo, I do it all for my niggas, even rob wit a bomb
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| Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my last
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| Its a million dollar bail, ima get it in cash
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| I sell crack like its 88, I live in the past
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| You know the p carry the gun, live in the mask
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| Tell niggas show me the money and gimme the stash
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| I like malibu and pineapple, fiftys of hash
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| Hundreds of dro, wear my clothes a week in a row
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| Sleep on the floor, catch me right next to the dog
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| Im holiday styles, and thats what the weaponry for
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| And I probably wont blow for the fact that Im hard
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| But Im good with ten million in the back of the car
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| Either that or get life and lift the rack in the yard
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| Gettin jewels from the old timers, stashin the cards
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| But jail aint part of the plans
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| I keep weight on the scale cuz I feel I get further with grams
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| In my last few bars, I run through niggas like my last few cars
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| 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
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| I dont deal with the snakes and fakes
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| But I deal with the comas and wakes, I dont make mistakes
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| Double r now bitch you oughta know ima ghost
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| Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Holiday , by - Ruff Ryders. Song from the album Ryde Or Die Vol. II, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп