[Styles P] Holiday Styles Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck if I ain't gettin proper respect I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill I don't give a fuck, never have, never will If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh) Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what) You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast