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Styles P – Story Of Holiday Lyrics

[Intro]
Let’s go machine
Ha
Its actually four-twenty right now, I’m on my shit
Let’s go
[Verse]
Blicky hit niggas like sixty can hit niggas
If I clip half the city, you think they would miss niggas
To tell the truth, I’m just sellin’ juice, try’na loosen up
Come to that weight or that H, I’ma stupid f**k
Simply know the rules, do to them what they do to us
Step up on the set, rep my set, yeah, I threw it up
Right before I blew it up
We can do it to the death
Letter is addressed to rap niggas, yeah, the two of us
You can bring the crew, I’ll kill ’em all, yeah, I’m true as f**k
Know I keep it trill, split your grill, try to glue it up
Ora’s explorer or the dark side
You don’t know the fright, split ya face like [?] died
He don’t get the drift, split his shit to the white meat
Hop up in the Uber or a Lyft lookin’ shiesty
I just wanna watch ’em but his watch is a nice piece
A robbery can turn to a homi within light-speed
I was on my positive vibe, there went the old Ghost
Seen niggas shot tryna score not at the goal post
Old school sledgehammer niggas, leave ya toes broke
Smack a rapper right on a yacht, that’s a show boat
Zoned out smokin a O, That’s a Ozone
Up all night for that money, f**k a No-Doz
You don’t sniff around in my business or have no nose
Cut that shit off with a blade or a four-four
Ask about Holiday but after the holiday
Back in for the win but now that the holiday
Prolly the hideaway that you can’t locate
They oughta make Styles Bape sweats how I go ape
Now you know I kick the hardest shit out, check the catalog, God
You can see what the artist about, in high school it was Nautica, Ralph
Now its exotic soft shit while I’m in the loft orderin’ out
I feel the soul of Rich Porter abound & Larry Davis son
A bunch of emcees I air all of ’em out
Ghost
[Outro]
We outta dis motha f**ka
D-Block
Ghost, nigga

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Lyrics

Jim Jones – Eastside

[Intro: Dave East]
Capo I got these niggas
Harlem you know how that go
Eastside

[Verse 1: Dave East]
Revenge is only natural, time to get even
We pick and roll, when the cold time to switch seasons
Trip to Belize, 100 keys’ll leave your kids bleeding
Balmain sweatsuit, tryna hide it, the grip peaking
Came from a hole in the wall, crack in the concrete
I want Giuseppes, not no Lebron sneaks, my palm trees
Cash in my future days, thinking about my past life
Model bitch’ll blow me like a bagpipe
19 they said I was a criminal, I just didn’t get caught yet
Think I got a warrant out cause I ain’t been to court yet
30 bricks’ll have you paranoid just like raw sex
Used to do Gortex, come to Harlem, we all fresh
Capo told me these niggas is in denial
Forgot what river we left his body, think it’s the Nile
Tom Ford flight jacket, prices ain’t coming down
Cook and smoke on them trips, turnpike with a couple pounds
[Hook: Jim Jones + Dave East]
Chill, chill, chill, you making it hot
My whole block got indicted, they just raided the spot
I just woke up in the kitchen, I was scraping the pot
I got it from my plug and took it straight to the block
Chill, I heard they confiscated the trap
They said the feds was on his ass when he was making a trap
They gave the nigga 10, I hope he make it up top
They said the nigga turned Muslim, now he making salat, chill

[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
It’s a queen B in the Supreme J’s
Cross (?) where the fiends play
Uptown, Rucker park, I seen Kareem play
I’m talking Big’s verse one is where I seen Jay
The Lord knows he put me where Rich Porter at
I sold drugs from as far as where Florida at
And when the coke was bad I still brought it back
I had the fiends losing weight just like a (?)
L’s copped the white Spur that I just bought in black
I took the rental down south, I never brought it back
I’m calling plays in the field like a quarterback
The feds setting up a blitz but I sold the trap
In Harlem in foreigns I still ride blunted
The (?) was that I lost, that was 500
I stayed fresh, I keep the hammer between
The belt with the jacket, Alexander McQueen
I’m hopping out the back but they handle is mean
I used to dribble but I still gotta handle this mean
Shit, give me a stove, show me a pot, let me work
Bitch I’m not a preacher but Lord knows this is church

[Hook: Jim Jones + Dave East]
Chill, chill, chill, you making it hot
My whole block got indicted, they just raided the spot
I just woke up in the kitchen, I was scraping the pot
I got it from my plug and took it straight to the block
Chill, I heard they confiscated the trap
They said the feds was on his ass when he was making a trap
They gave the nigga 10, I hope he make it up top
They said the nigga turned Muslim, now he making salat, chill

[Outro]
Step 5. We admit it to our higher power, to ourselves, and to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs

Crack, crack, everywhere you go, crack, you don’t hear no dope hardly. You don’t hear no coke anymore hardly the only thing you hear, crack-crack

Categories
Lyrics

Jim Jones – Eastside Lyrics

[Intro: Dave East]
Capo I got these niggas
Harlem you know how that go
Eastside

[Verse 1: Dave East]
Revenge is only natural, time to get even
We pick and roll, when the cold time to switch seasons
Trip to Belize, 100 keys’ll leave your kids bleeding
Balmain sweatsuit, tryna hide it, the grip peaking
Came from a hole in the wall, crack in the concrete
I want Giuseppes, not no Lebron sneaks, my palm trees
Cash in my future days, thinking about my past life
Model bitch’ll blow me like a bagpipe
19 they said I was a criminal, I just didn’t get caught yet
Think I got a warrant out cause I ain’t been to court yet
30 bricks’ll have you paranoid just like raw sex
Used to do Gortex, come to Harlem, we all fresh
Capo told me these niggas is in denial
Forgot what river we left his body, think it’s the Nile
Tom Ford flight jacket, prices ain’t coming down
Cook and smoke on them trips, turnpike with a couple pounds
[Hook: Jim Jones + Dave East]
Chill, chill, chill, you making it hot
My whole block got indicted, they just raided the spot
I just woke up in the kitchen, I was scraping the pot
I got it from my plug and took it straight to the block
Chill, I heard they confiscated the trap
They said the feds was on his ass when he was making a trap
They gave the nigga 10, I hope he make it up top
They said the nigga turned Muslim, now he making salat, chill

[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
It’s a queen B in the Supreme J’s
Cross (?) where the fiends play
Uptown, Rucker park, I seen Kareem play
I’m talking Big’s verse one is where I seen Jay
The Lord knows he put me where Rich Porter at
I sold drugs from as far as where Florida at
And when the coke was bad I still brought it back
I had the fiends losing weight just like a (?)
L’s copped the white Spur that I just bought in black
I took the rental down south, I never brought it back
I’m calling plays in the field like a quarterback
The feds setting up a blitz but I sold the trap
In Harlem in foreigns I still ride blunted
The (?) was that I lost, that was 500
I stayed fresh, I keep the hammer between
The belt with the jacket, Alexander McQueen
I’m hopping out the back but they handle is mean
I used to dribble but I still gotta handle this mean
Shit, give me a stove, show me a pot, let me work
Bitch I’m not a preacher but Lord knows this is church

[Hook: Jim Jones + Dave East]
Chill, chill, chill, you making it hot
My whole block got indicted, they just raided the spot
I just woke up in the kitchen, I was scraping the pot
I got it from my plug and took it straight to the block
Chill, I heard they confiscated the trap
They said the feds was on his ass when he was making a trap
They gave the nigga 10, I hope he make it up top
They said the nigga turned Muslim, now he making salat, chill

[Outro]
Step 5. We admit it to our higher power, to ourselves, and to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs

Crack, crack, everywhere you go, crack, you don’t hear no dope hardly. You don’t hear no coke anymore hardly the only thing you hear, crack-crack