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Holiday (feat. Payday) Video (MV)




Performed By: Lil Nesley
Language: English
Length: 2:41
Written by: Isaac Perdomo, Payton Clark




Lil Nesley - Holiday (feat. Payday) Lyrics
Official




F*ck a foreign
Kawasaki roarin'
3 trap phones
I don't even really need em'
Ice cream cones, on my wrist
No I don't eat em'
Shawty brought her kids to dinner
So I had to beat em'
I do what I wanna
I ain't even got a reason
Neck so cold
And my wrist stay freezin'
This my universe and
I got gems like Steven
Let that Uzi burst
Bullets snowin' tis the season
Shawty put the snow up
In her nose Like fun dip
Boy I promise I ain't never
Really been a bum bitch
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
Shawty put the snow up
In her nose Like fun dip
Boy I promise I ain't never
Really been a bum bitch
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
Ay
In the kitchen eating pasta
I don't go to bed unless
Homies getting head
Yeah we running from the feds
Yeah we running and we lost uh
Forget that, we dead, so we
Chilling with the raza
With the raza
Yeah we eating pasta
With the raza
Glock gon' leave you dead
Rest in peace
Mac 11 make you go
Mac 11 make you
Race, Race
Choppa make you dace
Laser to ya face
Heat like easy bake
I'm skinny like a rake, and you
Frosted so I flake you
Watch you dance like you the joker
Lady Gaga, playing poker
Polka dot
On your head
That means move
Or else you're dead
Shootas come at you like vultures
Told ya, "You ain't with the culture"
Castle crash that bitch I fulp her
Origami I unfold her
Took her tampon, I just trolled her
Throw you off a rollercoaster
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




F*ck a foreign
Kawasaki roarin'
3 trap phones
I don't even really need em'
Ice cream cones, on my wrist
No I don't eat em'
Shawty brought her kids to dinner
So I had to beat em'
I do what I wanna
I ain't even got a reason
Neck so cold
And my wrist stay freezin'
This my universe and
I got gems like Steven
Let that Uzi burst
Bullets snowin' tis the season
Shawty put the snow up
In her nose Like fun dip
Boy I promise I ain't never
Really been a bum bitch
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
Shawty put the snow up
In her nose Like fun dip
Boy I promise I ain't never
Really been a bum bitch
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
I just get the bans, get the bans
And I run it
Ay
In the kitchen eating pasta
I don't go to bed unless
Homies getting head
Yeah we running from the feds
Yeah we running and we lost uh
Forget that, we dead, so we
Chilling with the raza
With the raza
Yeah we eating pasta
With the raza
Glock gon' leave you dead
Rest in peace
Mac 11 make you go
Mac 11 make you
Race, Race
Choppa make you dace
Laser to ya face
Heat like easy bake
I'm skinny like a rake, and you
Frosted so I flake you
Watch you dance like you the joker
Lady Gaga, playing poker
Polka dot
On your head
That means move
Or else you're dead
Shootas come at you like vultures
Told ya, "You ain't with the culture"
Castle crash that bitch I fulp her
Origami I unfold her
Took her tampon, I just trolled her
Throw you off a rollercoaster
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Isaac Perdomo, Payton Clark
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Lil Nesley

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