| Lyrics: | Yeah, what up?
New York City, what up?
This your boy, to the Dash
S.P., Double
R
Hell and Back
Styles straight out the penn
[Styles P]
You don't like my shit
you could bite my dick
I got a case, I'ma fight my shit
I got a blunt, I'ma light my
shit
I'ma chain smoke with cocaine sellers
Stick up kid took the game over
Niggaz hate
death, still gotta break necks
I'm at the dealer coppin shit they ain't make yet
You think
you're nigga happy, I'm just trigger happy
Phone ring a lot, niggaz throwin figgas at me
I
got major plans, you get in the way
And your throat is the place where my banger lands
You
don't wanna anger me, upset me or startle me
You don't want a part of me, I'm goin for the
arteries
And I'm a colt-45 user, G-Host to the game of death
You about to die loser
This
is Holiday and Dash-On
We burn a whole fuckin house down so I don't need a mask
on
[Chorus: Drag-On |
