Packs Lyrics

When them phones get slow, niggas start to having writer's block

Say what's on my mind, I just rap about my life a lot

Before I hit the road, I find a driver and a hidding spot

I ain't come up off no fuckin' Trump loan, nor no biden plot

Fuckin' with no nigga who gon' show me any sign of cop

Get half of him killed and just ball on a surviving opps

Feinds buy my ice and say it's fire , it's that icy hot

Young trap nigga come and striker like a lightning rod

She ate me first night, what's her name? Shit, I forgot

Call me Big Slappa Slappa, I'm the one these hoes like a lot

Me and nice high as fuck, lookin' for a flight to shop

I know where the climate change, I know where the prices drop

Packs, we got packs in If you don't stack them fuckin' racks

and make them flip, you just a has-been I don't take it out the stash

I just count it up and add in

Truth is, I grew up broke and I ain't never goin' back again

Packs, we get packs gone This phone ain't got no apps on it

Baby, this a trap phone Grams, ounces, pounds

Baby, I'm runnin' through mad loads In a dope spot, blowin' out the heads

like a afro Mo' racks, mo' cash, mo' racks

She cheer me on when I'm countin' in the back like go, trap, go

I made this shit today, fuck, I'ma post a throwback, fuck

Got desserts all in my leaf, but it's mixed with snowcap, though

She gon' sell that shit for me before I'm with a broke-ass hoe

It's money over bitches, but you niggas know that, though

They in love with them perks, I done made my own capsules

All I smoke is candy and opps, no tobacco

All this shit I made off this iPhone, I owe Apple

Tell the drank man to bring that lean back, no fat joke

Watch me turn around in they town and go back home

I can lock the whole village in, it's dope, that's tone

Packs, we got packs in If you don't stack them fuckin' racks

and make them flip, you just a hand's business I don't take it out the stash, I just count it up and add in

Truth is, I grew up broke and I ain't never goin' back again

Packs, we get packs gone This phone ain't got no apps on it

Baby, this a trap phone Grams, ounces, pounds, baby, I'm runnin

through mad loads In a dope spot, blowin' out the heads

like a afro