RRR - K-Trap, Youngs Teflon, doroad

Barbeque settings and we don’t need coal

Countin' the wettins, I’m lookin' like Rose (Rose)

Had to do it like all of the bros

But if it’s like «Peewee, you gotta get close» (Yuck)

It’s th main roads, so if I go, it’s lookin' like soch' (Ah)

Taped up shh, that was way back then

W was doin' it bait back then

With a shotgun, pump and trey back then

Ay, done it like a parking warden

Ping that windshield, fuck that finance

(Woi-woi-woi)

You wan' send man coin 'cah they done it on binance

My young apes got brolic in jail

Was in class with shottys and nails

(Now what you sayin)

But the MAC 10's suttin' like Sonic and Tails

Hs swing round for the one time D

I ain’t even gotta tell 'em I’m horny

Mum found man’s knives way too many times

I ain’t even gotta tell her it’s warry

Shout my brudda Capone

Niggas on the run eatin', that’s Nore

I’m with K or K, salt bae man to the bone, it’s salty

Would’ve thought that I send man shop

For the sweets, way the 4−5 corn to send man

(Bah-bah-bah-bah)

Left man covered in blood like Tempman

We let them man stunt when we M man

I just high-five bro and the skengman

I know trench babies from the trenches

In a black trenchcoat tryna drench man

They say all I do is talk about the dot-dot

We got it lock stock colours and what not

Could have never try get him done with a one pop

I don’t have a one shot, never been a one pop

Two hands on the ting, I’m steady like Headie

I’ll kill my friend if he snitched like Melly

I’ll bill my spliff then go to beddy

I’ll be chuffed next morning if I see him on telly

Remember that time when I beat two corn

On a opp on his block, nah I bet you weren’t ready

Remember the time when my youngin' had a madness

I gave him the shank and his hands turned jelly

Have you ever heard an M10 on repeat

Just beatin' and beatin' and beatin' and beatin'

Have you ever cheffed man point blank

Civillians screaming «he's bleeding», «he's bleeding» (he's bleeding)

No I don’t think you fucking did

Goddy beat that ting wid a rusty pin

I was up close live, when I clutched on him

I ain’t seen another nigga on a rucksack ting like me

Corn licking off on the mains I speed

Face shot now his mum can’t ID

Matter fact don’t mind me (ay don’t mind, ay ay)