| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 0:42 | 
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| 2. |
| 3:34 | 
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<Intro: Swizz Beatz>
Swizzie! (Ghost!) Yeah, Smoke, now S.P. C'mon, S.P. C'mon Ghost - It's showtimes, It's showtime! Ghost - Lighters in the air! <Chorus: Swizz Beatz> I wanna roll somethin up so I-I can just blow, my mind(Lighters in the air!) Blow my mind(hey, hey, lighters in the air!) You should roll somethin up so You can just um, blow your mind(Blow your mind) You should just blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) Blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) <Styles P> Mind blown and I'm tore down Still Blow an once and a half, even more now Yeah, put your lighters in the air, light it up in here Yeah, put it in the air, see if I'm a puff in here You should find that I came to blow my mind out Pass it and you dorp it I'm a put you on time out Like Joe Frazier I'm smokin, mere bang out in the open In the tub, but it feel like the ocean I swear to God it be floatin And I don't need a car to be coastin, you could say that I'm boastin But this is S.P., and I know my time When I hear showtime, I'm a blow my mind <Chorus: Swizz Beatz> I wanna roll somethin up so I-I can just blow, my mind(Lighters in the air!) Blow my mind(hey, hey, lighters in the air!) You should roll somethin up so You can just um, blow your mind(Blow your mind) You should just blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) Blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) <Styles P> The black hippie, the sack with me, the lighter too I have dreams of Amsterdam everynight or two(Amsterdam) I feel good, the sky couldn't be a brighter blue Sun lookin like a tangerine You got green and it's mean, brother hit me like a tambourine I need a minute to myself, second to my self Pass the dutchie on the left, Whoever's suckin on the L I'm a need candy cause I know my breath is gon' smell I don't get sleep but some good restin off a L Mind blown, time fly, time gone Missed my exit on the highway I ride on Roll another one, get in my good time zone <Chorus: Swizz Beatz> I wanna roll somethin up so I-I can just blow, my mind(Lighters in the air!) Blow my mind(hey, hey, lighters in the air!) You should roll somethin up so You can just um, blow your mind(Blow your mind) You should just blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) Blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) <Styles P> I'm gone, the 'gnac and the wine gone Eyes look stoned shoot but what, I'm grown Over 21, come ober to my zone In less that two hours see a so box blown Lovin the smeel, feelin the texture And we got a whole lot but we still gettin extra Guess what's on the menu for breakfast Roll with the Ghost if you wanna get messed up <Chorus: Swizz Beatz> I wanna roll somethin up so I-I can just blow, my mind(Lighters in the air!) Blow my mind(hey, hey, lighters in the air!) You should roll somethin up so You can just um, blow your mind(Blow your mind) You should just blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) Blow your mind(Hey, hey, lighters in the air!) <Outro : Styles P> I mean just get blown away You know... Do what you do Bungie jump or somethin, speed in the car Do whatever blows your mind away I know what blows mine away <Swizz Beatz> You should roll somethin up so you can just um, blow your mind |
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| 3. |
| 3:46 |
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| 4. |
| 3:43 |
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I don't really care, what I sell or what I sold
As long as I give my soul, whenever my story told I don't know how you roll but I roll all alone In a zone knowin' **** well, my little brother home Still feel him in the passenger seat I can't see him and I wish that he could chatter with me In due time until then you would see I got more than a few rhymes Thought I'd be there to see him like more than a few times Tryin' to stay away from beef but **** is gettin' deep My restin' right, it's like I'm on lay away from sleep I think I should have been an author or somethin' Disappear like hoofer or somethin' Come back when they offer me somethin' My word eye gotta a little crust in my third eye Headaches is why I've been meditating, thoughts is devastating Could this be my last life, maybe my past life Is the future when I'm asleep? So what was last night? I'm going in deep and you know the ghost Alone in the street 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 o'clock in the morning You know I'm trying to see more Alone in the street All day, all night, all by myself You know that I'm alright Alone in the street 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 p.m. You know I trying to get it in Alone in the street All day, all night Mad live could learn to bounce out on a bad vibe Or even keep a gun in your cab ride Have I ever thought about my life as a bad guy? Made a little money sellin' rocks that was cap sized Robbed a lot of people like I never was baptized Yeah, I was a very young teen when I took my **** hotter But got right off my dean when I could book the ramatta 'Cause I rather be a robber or a midnight morata There's a part of me that loves bein' gangsta All of me, I couldn't help but get in the game The **** was callin' me and I think that I was callin' it back But you can't help but trip when you fall in a trap If the lord call who got the phone for callin' him back? These are man made, why dont'cha tell man to do that? But he can't so I'm a stay on a spiritual flap 'Cause it's a up hill battle and I'm dealin' with that Alone in the street 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 o'clock in the morning You know I'm trying to see more Alone in the street All day, all night, all by myself You know that I'm alright Alone in the street 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 p.m. You know I trying to get it in Alone in the street All day, all night Consider this the sermon, start the burnin' Never said you was hard, I ain't give you the permit I might think your vermette, better yet vomit Alone in the streets with the gun by the armpit Can't put the sharks with the pine fish, that's conflict Sorta like mixin', boy scouts with the convicts Somebody go and pay if somebody gonna play 'Cause the streets cold hearted than a hot summer day If you gonna rap, please stop, run away Go home, flush your crack then give your gun away 'Cause the rules is written down in invisible ink Just consider what the critical think Don't rat, do ya bid in the clink Stand tall little boy Get ya self a shank, if you feelin' paranoid But real talk, ****, jail talk, I know home sweet Even locked down in a cage is where you don't be Alone in the street 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 o'clock in the morning You know I'm trying to see more Alone in the street All day, all night, all by myself You know that I'm alright Alone in the street 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 p.m. You know I trying to get it in Alone in the street All day, all night |
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| 5. |
| 4:30 |
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| 6. |
| 3:44 |
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(feat. The Alchemist)
[Styles P:] Pain... pain... pain... Pain... pain... pain... All I know is pain, all I seen is death Couple homies and brother gone, when I'm gon' step I ain't suicidal, damn my brain need rest Think about my childhood, pain in my chest Past is the past, future ain't great All right in the hood when any day could be my last Pop somethin back, they wanna sue me for my math Hawk some back, they wanna sue me for my math Hard bein a gangsta rapper, you don't know the half You ain't got to condone it but you was never homeless And you ain't never fast, so you don't know the wrath To takin a long walk, down the wrong path All I know is pain - everything I did wrong I did it in vain, that's why I'm tryin to change Live for my seeds but the game ain't change Only the strong survive, I will maintain [Chorus: Styles P (Alchemist)] All I know is ? pain; all I give is - pain All I give is ? pain; all I live is - pain Only thing I know is mad years in the game (It's no love, ice cold blood runnin all through my veins) All I know is ? pain; all I give is - pain All I give is ? pain; all I live is - pain Only thing I know is mad years in the game (It's more than rhymes, more shine than the diamonds on your chain) [Styles P:] What you know about pain? Blood, sweat and tears where I'm standin in the rain If I don't blow Mary Jane I'm goin insane Before I had a car I was in the fast lane Drug dealer stick up kids for the neck game, a lot that I regret But I made it as a rapper, and it's not what I expect For a fact, this business is more crooked The boys'll sell they souls to the devil, the Lord lookin See in you hell just in case that we all cookin I got sins too, lot of foul shit that I been through The world is God house, I'm just a window - pane Tryin to maintain up to the end yo [Chorus] [Styles P:] All I know is pain, I feel so drained Rap niggaz is insane, they on Procaine What they call hot, I would call so lame They don't care about the art, and they show no shame If you ain't gettin spins, then you ain't gon' win But if you came from the bottom you should stay goin in The Ghost don't make it then the Phantom gon' win I'm a make the kids richer, make grandma grin [Chorus] |
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| 7. |
| 3:53 |
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| 8. |
| 3:39 |
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| 9. |
| 2:57 |
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(feat. Max B)
Yeah L-O-X nigga It don't stop It keep goin, and goin, and goin, and goin Motherfuckers [Styles Paniro:] 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 ain't 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 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'm a 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 [CHORUS: Jadakiss and Styles] [Jadakiss:] Uh huh, HOLIDAY [Styles:] I gotta make it to heaven for goin through hell [Jadakiss:] HOLIDAY [Styles:] And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I sell [Jadakiss:] HOLIDAY [Styles:] I use my left hand when I'm loadin the shells [Jadakiss:] HOLIDAY [Styles:] Cause I know it ain't right, that's why I'm blowin a L [Styles Paniro:] Yo... I do it all for my niggas, even ride with a bomb Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my last It's a million dollar bail, I'm a get it in cash I sell crack like it's '88, I live in the past You know the P carry the gun, live in the Maz' Tell niggas show me the money and gimme the stash I like Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash Hundreds of 'dro, wear my clothes a week in a row Sleep on the floor, catch me right next to the dog I'm Holiday Styles, and that's what the weaponry for And I probably won't blow for the fact that I'm hard But I'm good with ten million in the back of the car Either that or get life and lift the rack in the yard Gettin jewels from the old timers, stashin the cards But jail ain't part of the plans I keep weight on the scale cause I feel I get further with grams In my last few bars, I run through niggas like my last few cars And crash 'em up, the boy mighta went platinum but don't gas him up I get his length and his width and get his casket cut I don't deal with the snakes and fakes But I deal with the comas and wakes, I don't make mistakes Double R now bitch you oughta know I'm a ghost Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke [CHORUS] |
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| 10. |
| 2:47 |
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[Intro: Styles P]
Ohh man, I mean I gotta do somethin for the ladies, right? It's that kind of beat right here Poobs I feel it, let's go [Styles P:] Yeah, you told your man look at her Then he was like, "Damn look at her" Knee boots, mink shirt, top made of fur And now you like, "I wonder where she work" She on the dance floor, you like the twist and the jerk She sweeter than Ms. Butterworth And now you like, "Ma, who you? Got 'em sick like the flu how you dipped in Lou" She remind you of your first .22 She real small with a lot of bang You give her a ring cause you and her gotta hang She swear to God that, you and her got a thing [Chorus: Styles P] It be like, "Damn look at her" Nice face, nice waist - damn look at her It be like, "Damn look at her" Nice hips, nice lips - damn look at her It be like, "Damn look at her" Nice eyes, nice size - damn look at her It be like, "Damn look at her" Nice walk, nice talk - damn look at her [Styles P:] She look good in her gym clothes in fact With a little Air Max with the pins in the wrap All her friends are tens or similar to that Got a walk for the runway; talk that can fund-raise With a smile that look brighter than the sun ray And she's a real classy chick You know the type that you probably see a athlete with A rapper, actor, or a activist Or a C.E.O. dude that had to be rich Or a drug dealin kingpin that have them bricks You like, "Damn if I could have them hips, or I could have them lips" You look at her, and imagine this [Chorus] [Styles P:] Yeah, you was like, "Damn look at her" She remind you of a car, it's probably the flyin spur Or maybe it's the Audi with the real good curves You tryin to get up in her ear with the feel good words Felt real confident, know you was willy Told shorty that she was sweeter then the strawberry Phillies Said some old school stuff like, "Boy you was silly" Then you hand her over your jacket, you knew she was chilly Now you got her, she got you, you all in the spot too You like her, she like you, both of y'all hot too Now it's goin down and the plan occur And you got her in the bed like, "Damn look at her" [Chorus] |
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| 11. |
| 2:38 |
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| 12. |
| 1:06 |
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| 13. |
| 3:44 |
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| 14. |
| 2:53 |
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| 15. |
| 3:28 |
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(feat. Ghostface Killah)
[Intro: Styles P (Ghostface)] Yo Vinny Idol, what do you call under the underground? (Twin Ghost Experience!) YEAH! [Styles P:] 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 mom missin S.P. the Ghost and I'm trom' hittin Arm kickin anytime I'm spittin nigga just like a bomb hittin [Chorus: Styles P (Ghostface)] Somebody food gettin ate (gettin ate, yeah) Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (for they plate nigga) You know I go hard for the cake When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state (nigga what) I'm the star - somebody food gettin ate (food gettin ate, gettin ate) Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (robbed for they plate motherfucker) You know I go hard for the cake (it's the Twin Ghost Experience!) When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state I'm the star [Ghostface Killah:] Yo, yo, yo I'm a tell you how we do on the Island Squeeze your girl ass, now what, knock your punk ass off balance You can't come through Mickey D's, no burger no cheese Find your head missin, do you still want the #3? +Big Mac+, large order of 9's, no shake, we got shells Pissin on y'all bitches like R. Kell's And more or less staple your balls together And light you in kerosene, melt your whole face in your sweater You see the rubber gloves, thugs Nervous doctors play in the E.R., still wind up pullin the plug Cause it's a Twin Ghost Experience, flesh and spirit We bang, even the dead listen to deadly lyrics Make Big turn in his grave, even 'Pac can hear it Cochran, on Dirt's death, yo they tryin to appeal it But fuck that, all we want is the crack, the cash in bags Come through heavy, you might get yapped; motherfucker! [Chorus] [Styles P:] A lot of niggaz hoped I would die young Pitched in the hood hard, want me to Cy Young Real sharp words, guess I got me a fly tongue Always get high cause I feel high-strung I don't buy jewels, I buy haze and I buy guns Or they "hear me now" like the dude from Verizon Look at my eyes son, you won't see the next horizon Kickin that typical rap, despicable rap Or to get a hawk in your face, clip in your back Guess who, still keep the thing in the sweatsuit Hot blood leakin out your face is the best soup Food in the kitchen nigga, shit in the restroom Wreck when it's wreck time, S.P. the Ghost is five star Orders to the death when I rep mine King and the queen die, just like chess time If I don't kill you now I'll catch yo' ass next time [Chorus] |
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| 16. |
| 3:01 |
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| 17. |
| 0:38 |
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| 18. |
| 4:04 |
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| 19. |
| 3:06 |
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