Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trick Or Treat, artist - Russ Millions. Date of issue: 15.11.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Trick Or Treat |
| Twin barrel, that’s deuce |
| Dutty brucky, split it in two |
| Ay, they loving the crew |
| Man can’t say the things that we do |
| Swing them swords like Shinobi |
| Fur on my coat, it’s Coyote |
| I don’t know them boy but they know me |
| I got a brand new skeng for my old beef |
| Put a sock in it, Mick Foley |
| We don’t tick, call the hotline Roley |
| Put my life on the line, they owe me |
| And that shit, man I can’t condone, g |
| Attack upfront like Rashford |
| Violate gang, it’s cracking |
| Retaliation, rapid |
| Fam, the exit wounds were massive |
| Pull up and leave shit dirty, worksy |
| Whip out my mash like Shirley |
| Got a brownskin ting from Purley |
| She gets gassed when my hairs all curly |
| Don’t try send, cah you ain’t ready |
| Saw Aiden, he’s doing up leggy |
| Back this wap now everyt’ing shelly |
| Big Russ but, she know that already |
| Light love cah just fuck up her belly |
| Swing them shanks do him in Guiseppes |
| Gun Lean king, I’m on your girl’s telly |
| How many man been touched, there’s too many (loads) |
| Been taking risks |
| My opps are bruck, don’t take the piss |
| Still grab food on the paigon strip |
| And I got love for my paigon bitch |
| Buck into yutes, they fall |
| Cause I’ve really been on road |
| Make big men crumble |
| Hop them counters before I can wear man’s clothes |
| Got beef with the L, good luck |
| You might end up six feet under |
| I’ve already got down grown men and I’ll happily splash that younger |
| Back smoke and watch them run off |
| Aim up high and dump off |
| Take man’s food for the sake of my hunger |
| And pray that I don’t serve undercover |
| Feds tryna bird my team |
| Nearly had me made me miss my summer |
| En route to the trap playing K Trap |
| And the tarmac’s burning rubber |
| Gyal wanna suck my nuts, but I can’t jeet if she’s got no bumper |
| By Latts, them shanks been swung, numerous holes in your jumper |
| TB lean with the gun like Russ |
| Hit mum and her son |
| And Dach got bored in his face |
| Neek lost to a 3 on 1 |
| Buck into yutes, they run |
| How many man done dash |
| Knives on waist and none of them spun |
| We catch case, don’t add a K |
| Or you won’t last that long |
| ZT gang, London Fields, where this driller’s from |
| 14 on the front of a handlebar |
| 2 man, just me and Youngs |
| Or it was me and Bug |
| 2 black blades, tryna tear that up |
| Rambos rip through guts |
| Corn flies, sting like bees |
| Where they enter, they bite like dogs |
| 2 got dropped, won’t satisfy us |
| So we stay drilling on opps |