Trick Or Treat Lyrics - The Return Of Mr. Zone 6 - Gucci Mane

("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 

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! 

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 

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 

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 

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! 

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