Lyrics Trick Or Treat - Russ Millions, LATTZ

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