Designer Socks

(album: 1080 Trademark Records Presents: CEO Trayle - 2020)

(48Hz)
48Hz, forty-eight pounds
Four hundred forty-eight, get 'em gone now (Prezzley P.'ll get you popped, nigga, get your ass 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 itching, uh
I still remember pitching
I didn't have a MySpace, but I still had the bitches
Ain't gon' get no money with this rap shit, nigga, 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 robbing, niggas should be thankful
Uh, catch me kicking it with pharmacists and street bankers
Got them niggas up off your brother ass, but he thanked us
Niggas don't really wanna go outside with me, he dangerous
Adderall, Percocets sneaking up on me
And I can't let none of my niggas 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 bitch adore me
Uh, I don't want your bitch, lil' bro, she can't do nothing for me
Every bitch come with pussy, I need some more cheese
Nigga, we rolling big bumbles, we need some more trees
Nigga heard my music, stuck like crack, Big C4 morphine
And she ain't suck my dick, she jawed the team
Nigga get money, got more to bring
Bitch keep dropping 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 getting this money, that's sorta our thing
Paperboy Charlie, game fucked up, fuckboy tryna join our team
Z Money ski still ski, you get thirty shots, these still free
Banging on pots, I was young, like three
Came from shit, I'm free, watched my son turn three
Ayy, and I don't got a drink for a bitch, but we sex on the beach
Big 4 wearing these Prada sandals, I keep getting sand on my feet
Do my dirt all by myself 'cause they might take the stand on me
Percocet got me itching, Adderall got me focusing (Go)
I take my bitch to the spot, vitamin D
Old family friends hate this, they don't even like her with me
Pulling up to granny spot, I'm keeping my pipe on the seat
Nigga, 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 bitch do is look at my wrist, then look at my feet
Hey, I'm just now waking these fuck niggas up, a lot of you niggas been sleep
Ayy, I can't go wrong with Prezzley P. on my beat, go