[Intro: DJ Drama?]
(Laughing)
Trick or treat
What y'all want to do first?
Trick? OK
Uh, the trick's on you, see?
You should have never let us in the door, man
L.E.P. Bogus Boys & DJ Drama
Ah, well, that's the treat too
Surprise! (Gangsta)
[Chorus: Count]
(Yeah, yeah)
This ain't Halloween but all my n***as masked up
Hundred shot yoppers tear that a** up (k**as)
It's a nightmare and I ain't talking Elm Street (Gangsta)
Better run that bag when they yell trick or treat (?)
(Yeah)
It's k**ers at your front door
Turned into a haunted house but ain't nowhere to run, no
All my n***as vampires, blood-drinking n***as
And they at your neck, don't feed the k**ers
[Interlude: DJ Drama]
Robbery time
We're stealing your spot, your spot, and his
Give it up (DJ Drama, f** these n***as up)
[Chorus: Count]
[Verse 1: Moonie]
(Yeah, uh)
(They named me my CD and state that these n***as save me?)
Ain't nowhere to run from this young Wes Craven
Ain't no happy ending, just might end up in the basement
Horrified, but here go the feature presentation
Psycho, running with a a**ault rifle
Lurking through the day but catch me creeping through the night though
Masked up, looking for them kis like a typo
(What's a/This a?) maniac (step along?) in the sideshow
Insane Hannibal, motherf**ing animal
Wish I could explain it but you'd never understand it though
Hundred shot yoppers, guns singing like an opera
Said "Don't Feed Da k**az" but you looking like a Whopper
'Fore you make a move, know you dealing with a monster
And I'm not stopping 'til every soul conquered
This ain't Halloween but it's similar to Mike Myers
(We) A bunch of masked up n***as and we got priors
[Chorus: Count] (x2)
[Verse 2: Count]
I'm a vampire, that's why the guys call me Count
Drool dripping from my teeth, blood coming out my mouth
You think I'm putting fires out when I come around
Kicking n***as doors in like their house burning down
Let off a couple rounds, make 'em hit the floor
Pistol whip 'em, then I duct tape 'em like a brick of 'do
The sweetest n***a I ever hit, say I can't pick 'em
Home invasion left 'em traumatized like a rape victim
Now when you're in your crib, I be stuck in your head
Got you checking in your closet, looking up under your bed
Scared of your own shadow, so paranoid
Got you clenching on your banger every time you hear a noise
Catch you gambling in the alley on the back streets
Ask you for that money, better run it like a track meet
Thought it was sweet so I had to teach him a lesson
Poked his a** a hundred times, called it a lethal injection
[Chorus: Count] (x2)