15 Ways Styles P will KILL YOU

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Listening to Styles P is like listening to a action movie on record. This dude has said some of the most over the top, craziest stuff ever mentioned on record and in a sick way, He’s very entertaining! Theres many people that want to be gangster rappers but Holiday Styles does it in a matter where he delievers it in a very cold demenor. Check out some of the craziest verses my man has ever spitted. Theres a reason why he’s called the hardest rapper out(no homo):

I pray to the Allah But I’m too foul to go to the mosque And if it’s beef, I’ma murder you and go to da squad Holiday Styles Screw niggas far as they rap I let my shotgun ball ya bat Make ya coffin outta ya plaquesAnd bring ya ice to hellY’all fuck around dis album, I’ll do life in jailAnd if you under 21, you shouldn’t listen to disYou hate a nigga, go and kill him while he takin a shit So, when the cops come and get him he’ll be makin ’em sick So, they could feel how I feel I had a probable cause You know da shit that happens when you don’t follow da boss Follow the rules Kids get followed to school And the thug niggas ball ya boo Target practice was a horrible view It’s fucked up what tomorrow can do And these niggas feel sorrow for who? ‘Til we put you in da dirt, we ain’t partin wit you Wild out niggas

Verse off Wild Out

You heard it from the P, you oughta know it’s the truth I get you kidnapped and raped and thrown off a roof You could nod your head to this like it’s only a rap cause when these bullets hit yo’ ass I’m like it’s only a gat I need a funeral to feel good, I’m hopin it’s yours Think he religious? Heard he got shot in the cross Holiday Styles, bitch I broke most of the laws Fuck with the Porsche or flip to the boots, stick to the truth Do anything it takes just to get me this loot And missin a tooth, but both of ’em chipped, toaster is gripped You heard about the trouble, I start most of the shitWhen I squeeze aint no controllin the wristAnd niggas leave the room when they hear the P flowin to SwizzI’m an ignorant and negative niggaI sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I’m better than niggas You think not, I’ll look at your man and level a nigga If you think a rapper’s better why don’t 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, I’m the nigga to call Five eight and three quarters, but I’m bigger than y’all If I left the gun home, I’ma give you the sword I’m the devil in the flesh, I can’t give you the Lord It don’t make no sense for you to pray for your life I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta pray for your wife

Verse off Holiday

Here’s why they call me the ghost – I’m half live half dead And when there’s beef I bring all of the toast And I got more guns than most of New York And I aint got to say shit cause the toasters’ll talk Holiday Styles ignorant niggaTre pound four pound still tearin off your ligament nigga I’m the hardest rapper out bitches diggin a nigga And like anybody who beef can swim in the river When I walk through the door all the children’ll shiver It’s like, “He’s so gangsta – y’all so pussy” I murder y’all faggots so y’all don’t push me All I know is goin through hell, blowin a shell I got, down so hard I thought no one’d tell But I was damn wrong, I hold it down like my man’s gone I shoot anything I get my fuckin hands on to leave y’all coward niggaz bloody like a tampon

Verse off Come Thru

Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin pasta shells Order to go, always got a box of L’s Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine’ and swig I’m Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pigI pop shit cause I’m the second best, the first was B.I.G.Y’all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your fatherCause I like to play chess and I swing the revolverIf I don’t like a nigga, I don’t even be bothered I spit, I’m just a crooked nigga goin legit You hold your nine if you holdin a brick Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from “Bronx Tale” Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel Thirsty to live, are y’all niggaz eager to die? I tell all my niggaz ride, you won’t leave with a dime Motherfucker

Verse off Blackout

I vow to hold my niggas down, bust my gun, pay the bail Get the weed, get the liquor, dog I’m just a lick of styles Lyrically I’m somethin’ else, hardest out of nothin’ else Before you think I’m bitch you better all try to fuck yourself Mr. Paniro and, mixed with a pharoe and Got cold hearted when I started movin’ heroin Robbed more shit than Billy the Kid You think you’re nicer than the P you the silliest kid It’s like I’m better off poppin’ ya When I flow I got a formula in styles sort of like a philosipherY’all start borrowin’ lessons‘Cause rap without me is like the gods without the stars and the crescentsI don’t rap my niggas, I spit bars and baptize niggasPull guns and kill half-sized niggas You heard about the Holy Ghost and took it for lies Next time you see Paniro just look in his eyes nigga

Verse off the Ghost

You’re dealin with the ghost of the past You could sleep if you want, and get fucked with this toast in your ass I‘m a gangsta and a gentleman, I hope you the bestAnd tell you play the front seat and then choke you to deathThrow the gun to the chair try to open your chestGet blood on the driver face, window and dashBurn the car with the body in it, bring you the ash I get down on yo head like I’m Sigel the cold That nigga sniffed up yo coke I could bring you his nose If he stole money from you P could bring you his hands The nigga talk too much I bring the ears of his mans Need weed to calm down, need money to live life Fuck a watch cause my time is tickin Fuck a chain I’m already hangin Fuck a gang I’m already bangin Robbin niggas is my only form of steady payment Play it sweet I might be in your house L-O-X black mob Holiday and I’m out What…bitch?

Verse off Im a Ruff Ryder

Half of the hustle, half of them killers All of them Niggas wanna kill Paniro Better send the guerrilla’s Cause beef is like a brand new car You better ride Everytime I sleep I die Wish I was gone (ya know) Felt dumb when I was young I used to wish I was on I’ma stay blunted and red with one in the head Niggas thinkin’ they the donTill their shit get bombedI put 4 in your shootin’ arm2 in your legsLike 10 in your chestThe last one in your head I give you the whole clip, like you cheated and stole shit Knocked off the pack, flossed and no chips You know the business Empty rap kill your co-defendant Keep it male and catch a body in trial If you want a Nigga dead than do it Holiday Styles Come with 2 guns up and empty both off the clips Kill you whole fuckin’ crew and go ‘n smoke on the fifth Verse off Breathe Easy

If it’s beef better move on nigga, or get shot in the head Or trucked over by the UConn nigga (trucked over) Touch me, lose two arms, nigga you might think you hotYou dead wrong, you just lukewarm niggaI’m colder than the ice in the freezer Butcher knife slice and you seize up 44 blunts, I got a right to amnesia Late night I’m pipin a diva All my niggaz hyper and eager In case I miss the hit the sniper’ll leave ya This case it’s better to give than be the receiver In the M-6 blowin the weed up Comin through the hood makin sure that it’s G’d up I’ma I’ma hustler, you know that I read up My rap is like coke, so my shit stay ki’d up Y’all lil’ niggaz new to the slums I’m from the spot where the dope move faster than the cougar’ll run Come through with a chip, 22 in the bun Ask the streets who can spit an iller fluid than son Sheeit, nobody right? (Nobody) Kill you, you a nigga nobody like Fuck with me if you lookin for the rowdy type I get it buzzin with cousin Six dozen bullets skippin in the Audi right This is Styles nigga, I keep it comin like gunshots And you ain’t said nuttin in the wild nigga You ain’t said nuttin, what? Motherfucker Time is money nigga, that’s all I’ma say Poobs we fuckin out, see you at the finish line

Verse off The MC

Yeah… nigga this is Ghost with Ghostface I don’t sell millions but I get millions from the v’s who smoke base Somebody leavin’ out with a poked faceTone, you burnin’ to kick his teeth out, and sware don’t catch no case I’mma make you look like you smoke taste, and we don’t leave no trace These rap niggaz sware that they so safe I don’t wanna talk to you holmes, I don’t communicate My guns they in my hand, one in my palm And I could dial your number, like a smile off the face With the H.K. 9, I’m the all black hummer Metal lungies’ll spit the grungiest shit Hungriest shit, seventeen dummies a clip Tell them rap niggaz to suck my dick, fuck the industry And shift, shut down the store, bust my shit I got some hustlin’ ass niggaz that’ll pump my bricks And some dust head niggaz that’ll dump my clips, what? Verse off Metal Lungies

I’m Holiday Styles, where the fuck you thuggin’ at I knock off ya head with a Louisville Slugger bat P’ll go to war and ain’t never have to bring a nigga My gun is armed and my bullets like a finger nigga Call up Lil’ Jon and them East Side Boyz All I need is a lil’ bomb and them East Side toys You can catch me in the Dirty South, I got a dirty mouthSittin’ on the roof with the fuckin’ 30-30’s outI told you I’m a menace y’allI got enough guns to fill up the Lennox Mall In the front parking lot, coke still movin’ good Guns still sparke a lot Hustlin’ with family, partyin’ with murderers D-Block and everything, shit you probably heard of us Yeah I’m a Ryder nigga, you ain’t got a gun Or a motherfuckin’ knife, you ain’t even gon’ try us I’ll leave you with a hole daddy And for the fact that I’m in the Dirty South I’ll be bouncin’ in the old Caddy What – motherfucker Verse off Knockin heads out

Trust me, you don’t really know who you fuckin withThe gun is called Dick, won’t you go ahead and suck it bitch E’rybody fly, actin like a fuckin bitch If you ask me then e’rybody’s a fuckin trick Let me ease up, these niggaz ain’t G’d up They more like E’d up, once that I re’d up Shoot him in his face, while he rollin his weed up You rap with security, you pussy If you sell crack with authority you pussy Nigga can’t run a block cause them niggaz’ll run over you Probably wouldn’t jump, if they threw a gun over you You ain’t built for what you talkin about You unworthy, oughta get hawked in your mouth I got a white boyfriend that woulda called you a poser Got a nigga in jail that woulda made you a dosier You a wack-ass rapper nigga, fuck it it’s over

Verse off Shooting Niggas

D-Block, don’t think it niggaTake a piss in your Formula 50, drink it niggaGet shot out the Reeboks niggaGot shot and ain’t shoot none back, you’se a biatch nigga If I would’ve got shot on grandma’s stoop I would’ve asked somone to grab my duke, right In the streets they say, 50 who shot ya Named three niggaz soon as he came out the doctor And you far from a gangsta nigga You was talkin ’bout yourself when you made “Wanksta” nigga Listen, why work out, cock guns on the DVD Run around with cops from homicide and TNT Nigga you can suck my dick Come around without cops, shit’s on, you gon’ get touched quick Cuz, I was at the VIBE when it jumped off Put fifty grand up, and pussy you ain’t even lift a hand up Your man stabbed somethin, at least grab somethin But besides that, I ain’t seen nobody man up Shit, what the plot is about Cuz you know that, you don’t need a dentist to get shot in the mouth And the hood hate yo shit, but you hot in the south Is the crackers that buy the album, what’s the plottin about “Many Men” make a wish, but we ain’t many men So you gon’ get death when we let the semi spit Verse off Who Shot Ya

Guess I gotta burn down bridges, and break down rocks And come through and let this tre pound pop You all grown now And I don’t care if you from home town I’ll put a slug in the dome clown ‘Cause most of these rappers is talk I’m the nigga in the back of the court Wit 5 L’s and a 1/2 of a quart By 7 o’ clock I’m stone cold drunk, wit a blunt and a 2yr old pump Boulgin’ out my pant leg I’ll put it out and make ya man beg And shoot ’em anyway Y’all niggaz penny weight Niggaz like me just do what the semi say Any way we can do it any where any day I‘m Paniero bitch, I ain’t the nigga you play hero witEnd up dead, Ya t-shirt look white it’s gon end up redAnd my dogs look hungry they gon’ end up fed BITCH!

Verse from Shoot em in the Head

From a hood where niggaz is miserable Either gon’ dead you or leave you in critical Niggaz talkin money then show me the visual And then stand right there and get plucked like a chicken feather Stickin up the stick-up kids, nigga I’m sick as ever The gun is my bitch, and I bet you we stick togetherStuck like two dogs fuckinYou must be ready to die, fuckin with me like, you want somethinRing your bell and I have you like “Who call?”Smack you with a bat like Pujols, bottom of the ninthYou don’t wanna see me at the bottom of the pintRowdy, be outtie cause I’m a problem for the nightProblem for your life, leg or arm missinI can step it up, have you doubt or your mom missin S.P. the Ghost and I’m trom’ hittin Arm kickin anytime I’m spittin nigga just like a bomb hittin

Verse from Star of the State

Heres a treat for you Styles fans as well: