15 Ways Styles P will KILL YOU

Suregons General Warning: If this material or dialogue from this blog offends you then I suggest you do not continue on reading this because this blog is strictly for the hardcore hip hop heads. The content or blog is not meant for you to listen too so if you want to hear knowledge, Go watch CNN. If this offends you.

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 plaques
And bring ya ice to hell
Y’all fuck around dis album, I’ll do life in jail
And if you under 21, you shouldn’t listen to dis

You 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 shit
When I squeeze aint no controllin the wrist
And niggas leave the room when they hear the P flowin to Swizz
I’m an ignorant and negative nigga
I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I’m better than nigg
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 nigga
Tre 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 pig
I 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 father
Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver
If 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

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 philosipher
Y’all start borrowin’ lessons
‘Cause rap without me is like the gods without the stars and the crescents
I don’t rap my niggas, I spit bars and baptize niggas
Pull 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 best
And tell you play the front seat and then choke you to death
Throw the gun to the chair try to open your chest
Get blood on the driver face, window and dash
Burn 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

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 don
Till their shit get bombed
I put 4 in your shootin’ arm
2 in your legs
Like 10 in your chest
The 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 hot
You dead wrong, you just lukewarm nigga
I’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 face
Tone, 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 mouth
Sittin’ on the roof with the fuckin’ 30-30’s out
I told you I’m a menace y’all
I 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 with
The 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 nigga
Take a piss in your Formula 50, drink it nigga
Get shot out the Reeboks nigga
Got 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 wit
End up dead, Ya t-shirt look white it’s gon end up red
And 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 together
Stuck like two dogs fuckin
You must be ready to die, fuckin with me like, you want somethin
Ring your bell and I have you like “Who call?”
Smack you with a bat like Pujols, bottom of the ninth
You don’t wanna see me at the bottom of the pint
Rowdy, be outtie cause I’m a problem for the night
Problem for your life, leg or arm missin
I can step it up, have you doubt or your mo
m 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:

About Vic Da Rula

What more can I say? I enjoy Hip Hop, Sports, and living the good life! var a2a_config = a2a_config || {}; a2a_config.linkname = "Escobar300(Covering Hip Hop Culture, Sports, and Events)"; a2a_config.linkurl = "https://escobar300.wordpress.com/";
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8 Responses to 15 Ways Styles P will KILL YOU

  1. Style P the most gangster lyrics ever!

  2. Streets says:

    Wheres S Dot P Dot Ghost….

  3. LOLguydood says:

    So many lyrics are wrong.. like soooo many.

  4. vinnie says:

    Dude love the styles p tribute he’s one of the greatest mc’s of all time but you really gotta listen better a lot of the verses are completely wrong styles p would probably hawk you for that .” If I would of got shot on grandma’s stoop I woulda aired some by grandmaduke” that one was really bothering me but there’s much more .

  5. vinnie says:

    Dog style is one of the hardest mc’s of all time but if your gonna mention styles when it comes to being hard then you gotta mention Beanie Sigel you wanna talk about over the top and just straight up ruthless lyrics you pop these boys in before doing 100 more dips or before you body an entire crew because If they’re lyrics were super powers these dude’s would take out entire army’s of rappers I don’t care who they are when it comes to being hard and coming off sincere about it nobody compares

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