Trick Or Treat

[Intro]

[car peeling out] [car revs then peels out]

("Listen to the track bitch!") It's Gucci

Funky feet (funky feet) funky feet

Pull up with that stupid beat, orange Camaro trick or treat

Stupid geek (tweakin) it's super street

It's a Super Sport nigga, trick or treat

[Gucci Mane]

I flee the broads, stars and cars look like they just broke in the mall

Home girl seen my auto mall and said let's go and have a ball

Hold applause change your drawers, Big Gucci not Santa Clause

Young'uns might just break the law, whole Squad be like "Damn the law"

If what you seen ain't what you saw, Scary Movie, Saw 3

East Atlanta, whassup Santa, Alabama ride with me

Glock nine on me, hot rod lonely

Gucci ridin double wides, tractor-trailers, ponies

What'chu mean? Bag of beans, same boy from the magazines

Two AK's three magazines, make a stupid horror scene

Orange Ferrari, purple trees, whippin like on gold D's

Pimpin like I'm Goldie, listenin to the oldies

It's Gucci!

[Chorus]

Funky feet (funky feet) funky feet

Pull up with that stupid beat, orange Camaro trick or treat

Stupid geek... it's super street

It's a Super Sport nigga, trick or treat

Look at me, nigga look at me

Pull up in my new Ferrari, pull up and say trick or treat

And after a week, I cop another skreet

A pretty car, nigga, trick or treat

[Wooh Da Kid]

Okay our whip, our feet, ridin down our street

But got the broma{?}er'y T, turn your wife into a freak

Snatch the mighty iron whip, I gotta eat nigga

You lookin sweet nigga {click clack} trick or treat nigga

Trunk on thunder, candy paint mumble

Why your tint so dark? Bitch I'm ridin under

This Brick Squad, nigga what it do

Ye ain't Brick Squad pussy nigga who is you?

Money over e'rythang, even you

If the General call then you better shoot

BLAK BLAK BLAK BLAK BLAK, you know the dump

Wooh Da Kid and Guc' truth gon' pop the trunk

[Chorus]

[Slum Dunkin]

Louis Vuitton, come take a flick

You ain't takin shit, but you can take a click

It's a nightmare when I pop up

Got the top cut wit'cho lady chick

We super geeked, I'm hella high

Her mouth wet but mine stupid dry

I'm movin slow like a zombie

while she woppin me, she boppin me

Got black ice, call me Black Ice, really heavy around my neck

I just blackout, call me Blackout, look and shot at a nigga that flex

Now I'm bustin at him, I'm gunnin at him

He runnin real quick with those funky feet

He dead man, I'm toe taggin

I'm a black bag him in white sheets

I'm a flatline him, it's over with

And he ain't comin back, no heartbeat (ADIOS!)

Brick Squad some rude boys

Don't play around, don't fuck with them

I pull up on your block

Let some shots off, you stuck with them

I'm a G-A, N-G, S-T, A

[Chorus]

[Waka Flocka Flame]

All these {?} girls call me wantin to fuck

And Monique {?} the old ladies wanna fuck me

I poke you to death like Chucky

Came up in one year they say I'm lucky, FLOCKA!

Semi little hussy {?} that's a get money getter

All my girls got Waka Flocka on they {?}

Don't need a school girl, need a down-ass slut

Ten pack of bills I wanna roll and bite

Fuck police, fuck police, no license on me

In the club V.I.P. no ID cuz got funky feet

Ten left, twenty right, dead guys on me

I'm on E, it's Olde E, I think I'm 'bout to O.D.

Some fly girls wanna swat me

And it's gettin out of hand like I lost my arm

Off the chain like I lost my job

Hold my lotto ticket, girls love my charm

Ballin like pimps, shit doesn't switch

{?} ill, they love my sign

And I think I'm James Brown I got funky feet

Say Flock can't rap, I don't motherfuckin care

FLOCKA!

[Chorus]