Designer Socks Lyrics – CEO Trayle
Singer: CEO Trayle
Title: Designer Socks
(48Hz)
48Hz, forty-eight pounds
Four hundred forty-eight, get ’em gone now (Prezzley P.’ll get you popped, n#gg#, get your #ss popped, boy)
Go, go (Yeah)
Ayy (Ayy), ayy, ayy (For sure)
Ayy, ayy, ayy (Yeah)
Yeah, yeah (Go, go)
Cuffs in my pants, you see my designer socks
Big Boss C4, I come back and buy the block
Always knew you could clean any situation long as you had a mop, ayy
High-speed on the cops, check a check in ’til I drop, uh
My fingers get to itchin’, uh
I still remember pitchin’
I didn’t have a MySpace, but I still had the b#tches
Ain’t gon’ get no money with this rap sh#t, n#gg#, you don’t know this business
Gave the pack, he fumbled, take him out, tore his Achilles
I’m my guardian angel, a shark in the tanker
We robbed him, he bankrupt, one day last year mid-April
4 got rap money, I’m no longer robbin’, n#gg#s should be thankful
Uh, catch me kickin’ it with pharmacists and street bankers
Got them n#gg#s up off your brother #ss, but he thanked us
n#gg#s don’t really wanna go outside with me, he dangerous
Adderall, Percocets sneakin’ up on me
And I can’t let none of my n#gg#s be my opponents
We all gon’ get the chonies
Backdoor kicker, oh, for surely
Glock 19 in my left hand while I’m recording
Ask him how he know about me, ’cause his b#tch adore me
Uh, I don’t want your b#tch, lil’ bro, she can’t do nothin’ for me
Every b#tch come with p#ss#, I need some more cheese
n#gg#, we rollin’ big bumbles, we need some more trees
n#gg# heard my music, stuck like crack, Big C4 morphine
And she ain’t suck my dick, she jawed the team
n#gg# get money, got more to bring
b#tch keep droppin’ hints, tryna make me get some sort of ring
Now I pull a Trackhawk on that block where I used to be loitering
Twenty-seven carats in my wrist, call Bugs Bunny
But them ain’t all my carats, three more in my ring
I don’t know where you been, but gettin’ this money, that’s sorta our thing
Paperboy Charlie, game f#cked up, f#ckboy tryna join our team
Z Money ski still ski, you get thirty shots, these still free
Bangin’ on pots, I was young, like three
Came from sh#t, I’m free, watched my son turn three
Ayy, and I don’t got a drink for a b#tch, but we sex on the beach
Big 4 wearin’ these Prada sandals, I keep gettin’ sand on my feet
Do my dirt all by myself ’cause they might take the stand on me
Percocet got me itchin’, Adderall got me focusing (Go)
I take my b#tch to the spot, vitamin D
Old family friends hate this, they don’t even like her with me
Pullin’ up to granny spot, I’m keepin’ my pipe on the seat
n#gg#, my hood a dark zone, no lights on the street
Ayy, a hundred shots’ll make the whole block hot like Texas Pete
The first thing that b#tch do is look at my wrist, then look at my feet
Hey, I’m just now wakin’ these f#ck n#gg#s up, a lot of you n#gg#s been sleep
Ayy, I can’t go wrong with Prezzley P. on my beat, go
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Lyrics CEO Trayle – Designer Socks
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