Scarface (feat. EST Gee)

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

Trick or treat, grind or sleep, goin' fed on the beat
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jane on the sleeve
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town (whole town)
I'm watchin' Scarface (yeah), and that's with no sound (yeah)

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 Jane on the sleeve
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town (whole town)
I'm watchin' Scarface (yeah), and that's with no sound (yeah)

I'm a boss, boss, this is boss talk (yeah)
Bruce Leroy, might Crip-walk
Grab the plunger (yeah), nigga (yeah), 'cause I shit-talk (yeah)
Ain't talkin' classrooms (yeah), I'm wearin' white chalk (yeah)

We try and live life, we try and 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 (damn)

Who can you trust, though? Hey, where the love, go?
Hey, bitch, I'm shellshocked (shellshocked), I came from crackpots (yeah)
I rep the have-nots, yeah, I'm the mascot (yeah)
Can't break my old habits, still got a stash box (damn)

Still tryna do better, still 'bout that whatever
I beat the feds, hoe, 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 (yeah), grind or sleep (yeah), goin' fed on the beat (yeah)
Mick be on the keys, Plain Jane on the sleeve
I fed the whole hood, I fed the whole town
I'm watchin' Scarface, and that's with no sound (let's get 'em)

I'm a boss, boss (yeah), this is boss talk
Bruce Leroy (yeah), might Crip-walk
Grab the plunger (yeah), nigga, 'cause I shit-talk (yeah)
Ain't talkin' classrooms (yeah), I'm wearin' white chalk (yeah)

Put the car in park, hop out, let stick off
They some civilian shooters, we whack the big boss (yeah-yeah-yeah)
He steal a dirty stick, I wipe the prints off
A real trap nigga, I'm talkin' brick talk (yeah-yeah-yeah)

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 it's thick as batter
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 (yeah)
But on IG, they look like they turnt up (yeah)
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 Jane on the sleeve
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 ready?)

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-



Credits
Writer(s): Dwayne Richardson, George Stone Iii, Jay Jenkins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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