Yeah
Who put this thing together? Me
Yeah
That's who (Gangsta Grillz)

Trick or treat, grind or sleep, goin' Fed' on the beat (yeah)
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jain on the sleep
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town (whole town)
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound (yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go)
I'ma b-

All I got in this world (yeah)
Is my balls and my word
And I don't break 'em for nobody (yeah)
Mr. Thanksgiving

Trick or treat, grind or sleep, goin' Fed' on the beat (yeah)
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jain on the sleep
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town (whole town)
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound (yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go)
I'm a boss, boss, this is boss talk (yeah)
Bruce Leroy, might Crip-walk (woo)
Grab the plunger, nigga, 'cause I shit-talk (shit-talk)
Ain't talkin' classrooms, I'm wearin' white chalk

We try and live life, we try and get right (get right)
And when you get right, just keep your shit tight (yeah)
They try and block a nigga, they try and stop a nigga
Your bitch switched up, she out of pocket, nigga
Who can you trust though? Hey, where the love go?
Hey, bitch, I'm shellshocked, I came from crackpots (yeah)
I rep the have-nots, yeah, I'm the mascot
Can't break my old habits, still got a stash box (damn)
Still tryna do better, still 'bout that whatever
I beat the feds, ho', that's right, I'm too clever
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound

Trick or treat, grind or sleep, goin' fed on the beat (yeah)
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jain on the sleep (ayy)
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound (let's go)
I'm a boss, boss, this is boss talk (yeah)
Bruce Leroy (yeah), might Crip-walk
Grab the plunger, nigga (yeah), 'cause I shit-talk (shit-talk)
Ain't talkin' classrooms, I'm wearin' white chalk (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Put the con in the park, hop out, let stick off
They some civilian shooters (yeah), we whack the big boss
He steal a dirty stick (yaeh), I wipe the prints off
A real trap nigga, I'm talkin' brick talk
I train my dawg right, I make my pit walk
Hit it, make it sit, talk, ordered up, weren't ready
Mostly hard, I left a zip soft
In case he wanna practice, whip it 'til the stick is battered
Girl as strong as Trish Stratus, I'ma flip this master
Murder, business, bastards, snatch a nigga out his body
Doctor G, Miami, niggas backwards
But on IG, they look like they turnt up
They know not to post they whips in pics, it's gon' get burned up
Can't blame you for bein' a bitch, your daddy soft, but you can learn from 'em

Trick or treat, grind or sleep, goin' Fed' on the beat
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jain on the sleep
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound
I'm a boss, boss, this is boss talk
Bruce Leroy, might Crip-walk
Grab the plunger, nigga, 'cause I shit-talk
Ain't talkin' classrooms, I'm wearin' white chalk

You niggas don't have the guts to be what you wanna be
You need people like me
So you can point your fuckin' finger and say, "That's the bad guy"
DJ

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): George Albert Stone III, Jay Wayne Jenkins, Tyree Cinque Simmons