Print

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 I'm watchin' Scarface and that's with no sound I'm boss- 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 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 Letras de cancionesI'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 weighin' white chalk We tryna live life, we tryna get right And when you get right, just keep your shit tight They tryna block a nigga, they tryna stop a nigga Your bitch switched up, she outta pocket, nigga Who can you trust though? Hey, where the love go? Hey bitch, I'm shell shocked, I came from crack pots I rep the have nots, yeah, I'm the mascot Can't break my old habits, still got a stash box 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, 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 weighin' white chalk Put the con in park, hop out, let stick off They some civilian shooters, we whacked the big boss It's still a dirty stick, I wiped the prints off A real trap nigga, I'm talkin' brick talk I treat my dog right, I make my pit walk Hit it, make it sit tall Ordered up one ready, mostly hard, I left a zip soft In case he wanna practice, whip it till it's thick as batter Girl, as strong as Trish Stratus, I'm a fitness master Murder business bastard, snatch a nigga out his body Doctor Gee, 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 burnt up Can't blame you for bein' a bitch, yo daddy soft, look who you learned from 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 weighin' 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 fucking finger and say "That's the bad guy" DJ— From Letras Mania