Hell Date CEO Trayle

[Intro]
(48Hz)
Prezzley P.'ll get you popped, nigga (Get your ass popped, boy)

[Chorus]
It's too many fakes 'round, ayy
Nigga, we don't play, this ain't the playground
Ayy, two hundred shots wrapped in duct tape, what can you say now?
I stay far away from Henry County, that's like the jake town
Ayy, I swear to God I'm gone on these bitches, I can't wait 'round
My whole objective was to eat, I'm fillin' up my plate now
I got thirty bucks inside these Amiri jeans and I just skate 'round
Ayy, ayy, ayy, and if your bitch an opp, might gun your date down

[Verse]
Glock to your face, open the safe, nigga, lay down
Fifty bricks to Birmingham, Alabama off the Greyhound
I took them sticks straight up to Chiraq and then I stayed 'round
Uh, I'm ready for anothеr break-in, took my gate down
Take a look at that boy facе, he know I might jump his gate
Glock-19, might catch a case
These some Fendi sweatpants on my waist
I'm just gon' call Prezzley, that's my ace
Ayy, I don't fuck no more, but I fucked Tay
And I can't calm her down, that bitch too crazy
She still got my BMI check, pay me
They say that C4 be talkin' crazy
2013, Grady baby
I ain't seen Stunna in a long time, came a long way from blue Mercedes
I took his bitch, swallowed my babies
I'm rich, her boyfriend hook up cable
Too many thick horses in my stable
I'm Cain and Big 4 just like Abel
You see me flexin', it make you angry
Huh, how can you blame me?
Regular to you, but to Camp Creek, I'm just like Jay-Z
And it don't matter, whatever club I'm in, this bitch finna get rainy
You couldn't even see my brothers on that tape, that footage grainy
Ayy, he think C4 a pussy, he might try to stain me
Pour a four of Wock' and smoke a pound of these exotic strainsies
And I had a bitch, but all my bitches thought they was gon' change me
Nigga, you know I trap them bags from Washington Road all the way to Chamblee