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sneaky - ceo trayle lyrics

[intro: ceo trayle]
ayy
(poseidon)

[verse 1: ceo trayle]
yeah, it’s the criss*crosser, sh*t talker
mr. big bosser, hit that b*tch, toss her
it’s a maybach, but they think they saw a flying saucer
you better not tell that b*tch sh*t, she can’t hold water, uh
all these hoes don’t be sh*t, i don’t want no daughter
yeah, that’s why i’m big 4, n*gga, he smaller
mr. decline big offers, backdoor author
pull a kick*door, get the dough, then say, “forgive me, father”
ayy, a real forefather, he’s a four*timer
a real dior walker, and she’s a don doctor
this sh*t the sea, i see otters
eight and the e, jaw*lockers
in tennessee with three boppers, i may seem proper
yeah, he’s a percocet popper, we may need doctors
n*gga, we up these choppers, ain’t no helipad
them n*ggas h*lla sad, rich, but i didn’t have a dad
kick the door, duct tape and mask
kicked her out, her funky ass
know my pockets chunky, pads
stuffin’ that pape’ in duffel bags
no, b*tch, i ain’t gon’ cuff your ass
get the chop and dump ’em fast
big 4 can block work, you down bad
know how that clockwork movin’ fast
don’t have no outburst, watch i blast
i gave her top eight and a half
you didn’t think that i would do it with your lil’ hatin’ ass
yeah, n*gga be tellin’, don’t come ’round me, that sh*t make me mad
tell lil’ bro to shake a bag
s560, ain’t the jag’
empty the clip and change the mag
ayy, them percocets might bring me back
bro gave me a starter pack, mama had a heart attack
i’m richer than all the kids, i don’t know how to follow that
that switch let off, n*ggas swear they thought we bought a mac
i pay the cost to be the boss and i be fallin’ back
i call the b*tch in for the head and i don’t call her back
it’s b*tches layin’ in my bed waitin’ for to crack
they thought i bought some clothes, i went and bought a pack
yeah, and then i doubled back
all my b*tches love me, facts
[verse 2: talibando]
i’m a big*blunt smokin’, gun totin’, codeine cowboy
what i spent on my new kit, i swear you would’ve signed for (no cap)
left the girl alone, i’m only sellin’ boy, that’s where the money at (shh)
i get the bag up north and take it south, that’s where the junkies at (that’s where they at)
my n*ggas sellin’ wock’ now, they really got the block hot (hot, hot)
shoot the chop at a n*gga feet and make him cha*cha
when the beef on, pull up with all dreadheads, we rastas (what up?)
ten milli’ hit him close range, i turn his brains to pasta
you ain’t never took no trips on 75, strap your nuts on (come on)
i’ll hit the ‘hound and touch down in your town with a busload
i owe it all to the custos, a hundred for small pills
i’m like f*ck all this rap sh*t, i don’t care about y’all deal (i don’t)
i hope my dogs get they appeal (i do), brothers only, the navy seals
my first target your main shooter, we puttin’ him on the bench (he done)
show you this n*gga b*tch, show you he ain’t on sh*t (nothin’)
the way i work the five*seven, they thought i let off a switch (brrt)
my n*gga want some icewear, call my money phone like vezzo (call me)
they say the way i whip the work, i deserve a gold medal (skrrt, skrrt)
so i’m goin’ gold rollie, presidential (ooh)
sh*t on n*ggas, where the tissue? (where it’s at?)
got a pistol shoot out missiles (bah)
put the srt in sport mode, told ’em catch up with me (rroom)
i don’t f*ck around with broke hoes or no broke n*ggas (at all)
all my n*ggas made men like the mafia (yeah), touch someone, you die for real
like a chess move, make your next move the best one possible

- ceo trayle lyrics

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